


Consequences of a Nightcap

by Searofyr



Series: A Cyrodilic Prestige Project [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: Cults, F/M, Female Friendship, House Ravenwatch - Freeform, Romance, Vampire Politics, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 29,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27353536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Searofyr/pseuds/Searofyr
Summary: An account by Melima Aemilia, Cyrodiil / High Rock 2E.Clavicus Vile wants a new strain of Cyrodilic vampirism, one that’s all his own and not shared with Molag Bal. The honour of being the first falls to an Imperial City shop clerk.Melima moves to Rivenspire and learns to deal with her new condition and its social challenges, between a budding romance with her responsible Prince, a confusing friendship with fellow vampire Nanacie, and the questionable norms of a cult and its vampire politics.Begins before the Planemeld crisis, spans some years of ESO’s timeline.In this world, the Vestige’s alliance lies with the Pact, and the Daggerfall Covenant faces its problems alone.
Relationships: Clavicus Vile/Original Character(s), Clavicus Vile/Original Female Character(s), Clavicus Vile/Original Female Imperial Character(s), Fennorian/Original Female Breton Character(s) (Elder Scrolls)
Series: A Cyrodilic Prestige Project [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046341
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Corrupt a wish

Before I was the recluse I am now, we had a game. One person makes a wish, next person corrupts it in the result, and so on. I know it’s fairly popular, but for some reason it was our favourite pastime, other than drinking and debating politics.

We got different rules and variations, too.

Sometimes, the wish’s outcome was to be twisted. (I want a baby. – You have a baby, and it dies the first night.)

Sometimes, the corruption was to be in the wisher. (I want to be admired. – You’re admired by the underworld for your murder sprees.)

Sometimes the wish was taken to an assumed final extreme. (The classic: I want world peace. – A pandemic wipes out all sentient life including all intelligent and/or aggressive plants, now there’s peace. At some point, if anyone brought a variation of that to the table, they had to pay for the next round.) (Another that got my friend Nasrita immortalised in game leader’s glory: I want to be beautiful and alluring to my husband forever. – After your death, he exhumes your corpse to continue marital relations.)

Sometimes unintended factors were to be entered to undo all logic. (I want to take over my boss’s shop. – You do, and then a hagraven comes along and claims she’s his lawfully wedded wife, and you can only inherit the shop if you also pick up his duties as a husband.)

Sometimes it had to be taken at face value, sometimes it had to be taken absolutely literally, to screw with common phrasings and metaphors. We had rather benign, playful rounds and those that were for comparing how dark our thoughts could get or how deeply our innate pessimism ran that led us to the results we found.

“We”, that was a regular and formalised drinking round made up of city clerks, workers and apprentices, part favouring a stronger rule by an emperor, part wanting to strengthen the council and related groups that were somewhat supposed to represent the people, or at least the bare minimum of it. That latter part was my group at the time. What united us all was the idea that _someone_ had to put their foot down and rule effectively, and that someone had to be based in Cyrodiil. And under no circumstances should wavering and wayward provinces be left to their own devices to split off and rival the Empire. The Empire was the Empire, no matter in how many shambles it lay.

What united us even more was the flin.

One night, there was a new guy in the round, ‘listen to the voice of the people’ faction, short shaggy-haired, if I was to guess, I would have said Imperial with a bit of Wood Elf mixed in there somewhere. Introduced himself as Paiunas. Now everyone knows that’s the wily Minotaur merchant in Stecia Caleida’s “To Win Freedom” novel series, but we didn’t care. Maybe he worked for some big name who couldn’t afford to let his apprentices be seen here; we’ve had that happen before. Or even for seditious non-Imperials who certainly wouldn’t appreciate him being here. So we left him be for now. Besides, he was smart, witty, and could drink and argue with the best of them.

After a few rounds of our favourite game, Silvino proposed a new challenge: The wish had to be for something or someone other than ourselves. This wish for the something or someone else could not be corrupted or made negative in any way. The only corruption could be in the wisher and/or in how the wish came to be granted.

Silvino was one of the die-hard royalists, and a terrible idealist to boot. This was probably a way to suss out our ideals, figure out the political and philosophical stances assembled tonight, probably those of the newcomer as well. But we played along.

When it was my turn, although I wasn’t too drunk that night, I decided for honesty. While I had drinking companions, I wouldn’t have thought them close enough to wish for selfless stuff that corrupts me for their sake. While I had family, there weren’t many of them left, and while we weren’t on bad terms as such, I also would have hesitated on the selfless front.

What I said was, “I want to see the Empire not just properly united again under Cyrodilic rule but flourishing. A golden age. With all Tamrielic provinces in. Skyrim. Morrowind. All of it.”

Tasra would have been the one in line to corrupt it, but Paiunas raised his hand with a grin. “Can I? Now this is a _real_ challenge. I wanna try.”

I looked into the round. Tasra tended to be on the meek side of things, sweet girl but no real bite, so I was curious what the newcomer would come up with instead. “Fine with me,” I said, “if it’s fine with everyone else.”

“Go ahead,” Silvino said, and everyone else shrugged or nodded. It was his round, his rules.

Paiunas looked at me directly with a glint in his eyes. I won’t be as tacky as to describe it as hungry, but in truth it was. “Sure? Can I?”

I snorted at so much eagerness. “Yeah, go ahead. Do your best.”

He gave me a wide smile. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Hope you appreciate it. That’ll be a lot of work. Oh, sure, there are others who want something like that, if I had a soul for every time I heard this kind of sentiment in certain company, I could open a gem store in Coldharbour. But that means I’ll have to cooperate with them. But I will, for the challenge. I’ve been getting bored lately. Now as for you… You said you wanted to _see_ it. These things take time, you know. We’ll have to do something about that. And as it happens, I’ve got _just_ the right thing for you. You ever heard of the Cyrodilic strain of vampirism?”

That got him some snorts and laughter and some raised eyebrows.

By that time, I had an idea of what was up. Not an exact idea, I’ll be honest; my thinking was that he was a vampire of that kind himself looking for recruits. But an idea. Building up were anxiety, stress and a deep unease, but I was also intrigued, and a bit amused in that sort of detached way when you can’t quite grasp what’s happening to you and that it’s actually happening to you, and it’s for the best of you that you don’t cause you’d fall apart on the spot.

So I grinned. Pretty sure it came out forced, and there’d be no fooling this guy, but also if there was one thing I had heard about the Cyrodilic strand of vampirism, it was that its owners were extremely secretive and discouraged belief in their kind at every opportunity. Blending in was everything. So to do an entertaining guest a favour, and to save my own hide, I said, “Sure I have, in the marketplace, when the bored wives tell their spooky stories.”

Paiunas leaned over with the kind of smile you see on crime lords. “Are you likening me to a bored Imperial wife then?”

Before I could reply, he shrugged and leaned back all relaxation. “Good for you, you know how this works. Clumsy, but I did just throw you in the proverbial cold water, so I’ll give it a pass. Finish that flin. My advice: Savour it. And then, try to get a good night’s sleep. You look tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pushed back his chair noisily and got up. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been a pleasure.”

I raised an eyebrow and tried to get my expression under control, but let’s not pretend you manage that in that kind of situation.

He looked at me. “Actually…”

One of the guys at the table, I forget which, shows how callous I am given the circumstances, said, “Oh cut the games and ask her out already. This is impossible to watch.”

There was general agreement at the table. So that was what it looked like, huh, I thought.

Apparently Paiunas thought this was a good idea and said, “You know, where you’re right, you’re right. My lady, why don’t I ask you out right now for a nightcap? Somewhere less busy. Just one, promise, and I’ll let you get home.” He made a dramatic gesture that looked like a ritualistic one, but of what I had no idea. “Upon my honour.”

I was intrigued again; I know, I wasn’t always smart back then. Nor am I now, for that matter. “Your honour, huh?”

“Ah, mistrustful at such a young age.” (I was 45 then but took the flattery.) “Fine, something more concrete. Here’s something everyone understands: My dog. I swear upon my dog.”

I had to laugh. “That’s indeed compelling. I do want to meet him, though. Just to make sure you actually have one.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll arrange it, sometime. He’s got nothing better to do right now anyway, just lounging about the place.”

“The privilege of a dog,” I said.

“Indeed.”

And so without knowing or caring what I was doing, I’d agreed. I did take care to empty the glass of flin and enjoy it. Just cause that sense at the back of my mind did have an idea what I was doing.

The nightcap was in a back alley.

“So you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” he said. “But I bet you haven’t got it all yet. Do you feel hungry yet? Thirsty? In an unusual way?”

I blinked. I did. “I’d put it down to the flin and the dry air and all the smoke.”

“Oh no, not this. This will only get worse. I gave you a start. A seed, if you will. But let’s make an experiment. Let’s bypass old Bal altogether this time, shall we? He’s been messing around with this era far too much for my liking, and this isn’t nearly the end of it either. So let’s make something he can’t have or influence. How about it? In return, I’ll treat you well, for as much as I can remember to, and my dog reminds me to, and I’ll work on making that wish of yours come true. Not that you have much of a choice in the matter. But I like it when you mortals have choices.”

My lips twitched, and I’m sure some manual for this says you’re not supposed to smile at that, but those manuals know nothing about mortal nature. “I’m probably too drunk to make that kind of decision in detail, but I think I like it. Especially the part about no Molag Bal involved in anything. Can you promise me that?”

“Sure, sure, promise.”

“Hey, be flattered,” I said.

He snorted. “I guess I am, huh. So you’ve figured out who I am?”

“I’m pretty sure, unless this is all an elaborate prank.”

“Not in that way, no. So, how do we do this, you must wonder.” Clavicus Vile waved his hand in a downward gesture, his wide sleeve flapping against his thin wrist. “Don’t worry, I’m not like Bal and his tasteless nonsense. Let’s go traditional. You’re thirsty. You’ll be more so soon. I’ll give you your first taste. Nightcap, see? And afterwards, you’ll be tired, and I’ll escort you home even, and you’ll go to bed alone and sleep it off. That’s when the dreams will start. Don’t worry about those either. Bit heavy, but without Bal interfering with…” – here he sneered – “his own ideas of aesthetics, it won’t be too traumatising.”

“I’ve had nightmares all my life,” I said.

“I know.”

“Huh.”

“And by the way, you already do look tired. It’s cause it’s starting to show. Good thing you’re a pale one. I only handpick the pale ones for my own picks, makes blending in much easier. Less of a difference. See? I didn’t lie, and I’m keeping all my promises. I’ll keep the rest, too. You give me something fun to do. And tomorrow let’s meet up after you’ve had your beauty sleep, and I’ll explain you some essentials.”

A small part of my mind chimed in desperately arguing about why in Oblivion I was here at all making these arrangements. I shut it up the way I often do: ‘Not now, I feel like it, that’s why.’

“Ready?” Clavicus asked.

“How do I do that? Do I bite you, or…”

“You get the rare privilege. It’ll happen when you try, you’ll see. It’s almost like…” He made a whooshing sound. “Magic.” Then he held out his wrist like an aristocrat granting a boon.

I took it, not the elegant way you see on romantic paintings, but in a supremely awkward way like I didn’t know what to do with it, cause I didn’t. You didn’t get that kind of lesson anywhere.

“Just go ahead already,” he said, “I won’t break.”

“Right,” I said, “Daedra,” and bit. It did happen. Fangs sunk in, and I tasted blood like I’d never had before, and before I could analyse it, it rushed into my mind and shaped my magical energy in a swirl of colours, I felt my hair standing up all over, and I knew I was a new being now.

“Now, now,” his voice broke into my senses, a jovial tone. “You can stop. I know it’s good. But don’t make me regret that experiment I’m doing on a whim.”

I regained my composure and let go, which was harder than I’d thought it would be. Then the embarrassment set in. I looked up.

He grinned. “You’re going to make me lightheaded. Oh wait. Daedra. Nevermind.”

I laughed at that, and the spell slowly crumbled in on itself in a benevolent pile of rocks at our feet.

“Now you go to sleep. Don’t worry. I know where you live. Or is that reason to worry? You decide. Not that it makes a difference.”

Within moments he had transported us in front of the house I was renting a room in at the time. “Here you are. In no danger except the gossip if they see you with your gentleman admirer. But I was good tonight, I’m not even wearing the horns. See how considerate I am?”

“Very,” I agreed with another smile I couldn’t help.

“See? Someone who appreciates me. Now sleep. Tomorrow at noon, I’ll come here, and we’ll talk at… Oh, where does nobody expect that kind of thing to take place… There’s a teahouse that’s popular with old ladies and traditionalists crying about the old times. Wear something nice. Like you’re a decent young lady who wants nothing more than Reman or the Tsaesci back. Moonstones. You have any? Wait.” He shook a coronet out of his sleeve and placed it into my hand. Still had the bite wound on his wrist. An interesting image, both of it, and both together.

“Really?” I asked. “Does this come at a price?”

“No, this is a gift. And an assurance that you look like you belong tomorrow. Your future people appreciate that.”

I took it. “Thanks. Thanks for everything.”

“I don’t hear that too often. See, you’ve got manners, perfect fit. Now, goodnight, and shush before you fall over out here.”

I made it to my bed, fell asleep at unusual speed, and he was right. The dreams came.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, I got dressed in something I hoped was appropriate enough, put a bit of colour on my face even, part for the location and part cause the vampiric paleness was really starting to show by now, put on the moonstone coronet and went downstairs.

Agarica, my elderly fellow tenant, looked me over and gave me a toothy grin. “Meeting that gentleman from last night?” She fell into a whisper. “Carenna and I saw you come home. Earlier than usual.”

One of the first things you have to learn: Keep your composure when you’ve been seen with Clavicus Vile. I failed.

Luckily, she took it as embarrassment, since she had no idea who it was, or she wouldn’t have said, “It’s alright, dearie. That kind is good for you. I could see his coat.” She clicked her tongue. “Quality, my old eyes can see that. Stick with him.”

Now I must have looked really distressed cause she laughed. “So where are you going today?”

“He knows a teahouse he wants to take me to.”

“Oh, he might just be a traditionalist then. There’s one house my cousin goes to. The well-off one. Could send me some gold once in a while, the old bat.” She cackled. “But they never do. So you be smart, and haul that fellow in, and get out of here while you still can. Promise?”

I had absolutely no idea what to say to that. What’s the most reasonable way around ‘It’s not like that, he’s a Daedric Prince, and I’m a freshly made vampire?’ I decided for “I can’t promise anything; he might not even be all that serious about it. I mean, we met at a tavern, and we’re really… from different worlds.” Close enough.

“That’s why you use your womanly charms!”

“Not sure I have those.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that. Every woman has them.” She took on a pensive expression. “But to help you out… Wait just _one_ moment!” And she was in her room. Came back shortly after with a vial.

I eyed it suspiciously. It was much too late to clarify that I wasn’t actually intent on ensnaring any gentleman admirers, I just wanted to fit into some Akaviri-nostalgics’ teahouse.

“Here,” Agarica said, opening the vial and releasing a murky and sweet and somewhat dusty fragrance that promised headaches after seconds of exposure. “I got this from my great-aunt, before she died and her family snatched up her possessions like harpies. This was popular in her ladies’ society. A few decades ago, but if he likes teahouses, that’s just right. Wear this.”

My doubtful look was ignored with a crisp “No protests,” and the fragrance was applied to my hapless self. “Summer Moon Shade. Now you can’t help but win him over.”

I thanked her, admittedly in a much better mood than before cause being caught off-guard and having your gloomy thoughts completely knocked off-balance does that to you sometimes. And so armed with the full might of old ladies’ perfume and advice, I stepped out of the house to meet a Daedric Prince.


	3. Chapter 3

The teahouse was close to a military cemetery, both in location and in patrons’ demographic.

I asked Clavicus if it had been an intentional choice back in the day. He said it was, and that there were also a small chapel of Arkay and a shrine of Stendarr close-by. “But here’s where my own personal brand of your kind come in. Or how, rather. The how being, undetected. That’s the biggest lesson you have to learn. _Learn to be inconspicuous_.”

While I took in his words, he took in my get-up and grinned at last.

“Moon Summer Shade?”

“Summer Moon Shade,” I said. “Or so I was told.”

“Right, that’s it. Had people sell things for that stuff back in the day, you wouldn’t believe. Once got a child’s soul for a flask.”

I snorted. “I work at an alchemist’s shop; I’ll believe a lot.”

“Ha! Good. Yes. About that. You won’t anymore. We’ll get to that. Tea?” He feigned a squint at the menu chart on the wall.

“Recommend me something fitting. Something a snake-nostalgic would order, or whatever the impression is we’re trying to give here.”

“Let’s see.” He steepled his fingers and peered at me across the table. “You’re not at snake-nostalgic levels. But you look like you’re trying, and with that you’re not out of place any longer. Baby steps I guess. But steps. I like mortals I can work with and who listen to advice. So, we can go two ways. You don’t look noble or other higher class no matter how we cut it, so you’re an upstart. And we need to take the mismatch into account. If I could watch over you for some years, we could disguise it until you make it, but I’ll be busy very soon; this is actually terrible timing for a new project, but I’ll fit you in somehow. But that means I need initiative from you yourself.”

He really likes to talk when he gets into it. The saying is for people who like to hear themselves talk, but he likes for others to hear him talk, first and foremost.

I nodded. “I got it. I’ll just need some advice, because… Well, I’m quite new to this.”

“Obviously, yes. So. You can be the wallflower. One option. The shy and frumpy clerk who tries to make it among these people, maybe for a guy?”

I grinned. “Like you’ve been playing? But you’ll have to leave soon, by what you’ve been saying, right?”

“Yeah, as fun as this is, this can only be an obfuscation tactic for the very moment. Neighbours, friends, anyone whose eyes I need to pry you away from. And I can’t shake a gentleman out of my sleeve to pick up my work, well I could, but I won’t account for the quality.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

“Thought so. So what motivates our unremarkable wallflower? Maybe her late mother’s wish, believe me, people will grow beyond themselves and beyond all sense for late mothers’ wishes.”

“I didn’t get a concrete one. She died before we could have that kind of parting talk. Maybe for the best; we’re Colovian, we’re no good with emotional displays and being heart-warming when it counts. I can just assume. I’ll assume she meant for me to have some kind of good life or to succeed somehow. Oh and go by the teachings, and duty, and be respectable, and that kind of thing. Listen to the Divines. You know.”

“Oh, Colovians, I know. But you get the idea.”

“That I do. I pause sometimes to listen in my head for advice she once gave me, or would have given me maybe. Much more than when she was alive, as it goes.”

“Right. But that may be the wrong route to go. What we’re doing is drama. For this to be convincing, you need to show more emotion, and being your Colovian self with your Colovian background, let’s not count on you being able to deliver that.”

I snorted. “You’re not wrong. I’ll try if there’s no better option; I really want this to work out, but…”

“No, no, we have options.” He surreptitiously pointed at a rugged man of maybe late middle age, wearing a rough patchy military coat but shined-up fancy boots. “He’s here for conviction’s sake. He doesn’t have the funds to improve his whole wardrobe at once, but someone told him the first thing people pay attention to is your boots. He’s been in wars and skirmishes, and he’s proud of that. He thinks the current state of the Empire is a disgrace, and he’s heard that here is where you can be around people who think the same. He’s trying. If he doesn’t step up his game, he won’t make it high, but he’ll be accepted as one who gets things done and doesn’t ask too many questions. Loyal to the cause. Everyone needs those.” Clavicus mustered me for a while.

I was about to say I probably didn’t look credible as a military veteran.

He said, “I know, we can forget the military background for you, _but_ we can play with convictions. You can fake those without much effort. And you know your drinking group had those elements. And maybe a striking event turns you to these kinds of thoughts. After you’ve been exposed to them, from drinking companions, and that gentleman you’ve been going out with a few times. So young, but a terrible traditionalist. Now with your background of dutiful stoic loyalists, the influence fell on fertile ground and…” He made a hand gesture that could have been a blossoming or an explosion. “Here we are. You’re a bit rough around the edges, mostly due to your Colovian background, but you did after all work hard to get to the City with all its culture. You’re willing to learn.” He grinned. “I’m so good at this I scare myself. Are we in?”

I thought it through and decided, “I can do that. That works.”

“Good. I advise you to pick up an interest in weapons. You don’t have to wield them. Just admire them. Maybe collect them? You’re not Nibenese, you can afford to be a little eccentric and unladylike as long as you praise Reman enough.”

I grinned. “This is starting to be fun.”

“I knew it!” He clapped his hands. “We’ll make you one of them in no time. Well, some time.”

“So weapons…”

“Don’t worry about accuracy. No need to become a military scholar here. See, nobody who’s assembled here is ever going to wield a weapon again, and only a few of them did in the past. Most of them wish they had, so they could talk about it now, but in truth they wouldn’t have made it off their first battlefield alive. This is all about image and,” he made quotation marks in the air, “principle.”

“That makes some amount of sense,” I said, “I think. Question. Why’d you pick the reactionary route for me? Do I give off that image?”

“You give off an image that we can mould into that. Potential. You also have been hanging around a few of the kind.”

“Well, the Empire is also in a serious mess.”

“See? That kind of thinking is a start. But you’re also right about that, you have no idea yet how right. But no.” He leaned back in his chair. “Those are secondary reasons. Reasons we _can_ go in that direction with you. The reason we _should_ is another. You’ll be judged by your Cyrodilic vampire peers once you join their society. There’s no getting around some kind of politics with them; they’re almost more addicted to that than they are to blood. And these days, the easy thing to do is to go the free-spirited route, accept the provinces, peace at all cost, high tolerance for anyone and anything – that includes your own kind, of course. The more rigid a society, the less tolerance for vampires. But remember that: It’s too easy. Easy to perform and get complacent. Easy to sniff them out if they go that way. They fall by the wayside. It’s fashionable now, but it won’t be forever. And those who go with the flow of opinion now won’t have learned when the tide changes.”

I nodded. “That rings… rather true actually.”

“Right? They blame me for giving bad advice all the time, maybe some of it through my own fault,” he gave a blithe smile, “but when I talk about things like that, you want to listen. And remember. Always remember. When you’re in doubt as to what to do, remember.”

I nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Now you as my special experiment will get a head start. This is what I can give you now. You will learn right away. Steep learning curve, but when this whole place goes to the dogs, which it soon will, you can hide out anywhere and make it anywhere. And if you manage the game, there’s no better place to hide than among reactionaries who would never accept your kind if they had an idea. Remember that, too.”

I nodded again. “Got it.”

“Excellent. I do like mortals who listen, have I mentioned that? So tea. You being a reactionary old man military enthusiast in the body of a young-enough female clerk, you like the strong smoky stuff.”

“I actually do.”

He grinned at me. “Didn’t I tell you? I’m good at this.”

“Will this still be good in my new condition? You told me to savour the flin last night. Last one before the turn, right?”

“Oh you were already turned then. Just not all the way there yet. To answer your question, you can eat and drink as normal, or almost as normal. It won’t do much for you, except for some special secret recipes that mortals sometimes concoct, and it won’t taste as good. But here’s an advantage you have now: The strong stuff still leaves some impression. If I get you Bal Foyen Smoked Grass Special, you’ll taste some of it. Unlike if we’d gone the wallflower route and your persona had preferred mild flowery stuff. You’re lucky!” He leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, “By the way, here’s a hint for emergencies. Look for Nirnroot. That’s all I’m going to tell you.”

Then he ordered us tea.


	4. Chapter 4

Over tea, he proceeded with general explanations and introductions to vampirism, bloodsucking, general etiquette, things to know about the condition, and so on. While this isn’t a memoir (people write these near the end of their lives, and I don’t intend for there to be an end to my life), this isn’t a primer into vampirism either, so I’ll skip over this. Find yourselves a patron if you’re inclined to follow in my footsteps.

After I looked around one too many times, he said, “They can’t hear us. They think we’re discussing whatever they think we should be discussing.”

That sounded plausible enough from a Daedric Prince with the kinds of specialties that included masks and blending in.

At some point, he changed the subject.

“Now about your immediate future. You’re not ready, no matter how we look at it. Potential, oh yes, but not ready. You’re quitting your work and getting out of the City. And don’t protest now; yes, you worked hard to get here, and you’ll come back here, but not now. I told you, these things take time.”

“Things like my wish last night,” I guessed.

“Yeah. In the meantime, this’ll be the opposite of a Golden Age. Believe me, if everything goes even remotely how I think it’s going to go, it’s going to be a mess here soon enough, and you won’t want to be here. Got it?”

“Got it.” When your fate has already fallen into place, you don’t struggle, you make the best of the new conditions. “But how, I guess I’m supposed to be inconspicuous about it, and where would I go?”

“Getting to that. We’ve got to hurry it up, and if you fail, it’ll make me look bad, too; my first novelty in a long time, I’ve got to expend _some_ effort in the beginning stages. What I’ll do is, I’ll take you home, then you pack up what you can’t leave behind, and I take you away as your alibi, and make you disappear somewhere. Thinking Rivenspire for now. Lots of vampires. None of your kind, but that’s good. You learn the ropes, learn to feed, learn to deal with them, and when you’re ready, you can go somewhere else, and eventually Cyrodiil. Yes, I like that thought. Rivenspire. Some nobles, some pesky Arkay cultists, good practice grounds. And you can be there tonight. No tedious boat rides, no organising all the transport, what do you say?”

I reminded myself that these were my new circumstances, and it didn’t really matter what I said, so I might as well match politeness with politeness. Besides, it was something new and exciting for once, out of the blue. That wasn’t so bad.

“Sounds good,” I said.

“Excellent. Now a related matter. You can probably figure out that it doesn’t help your disguise if people who’ve known you too well find out what happened to you.”

Now here we were treading onto shaky ground. I nodded with some apprehension.

“You’re a smart one, right? So I’ll ask you outright. Who do you most want to save?”

Mortals will deny plenty in the moment, but there was no mistaking the implications in that question, not even with the best efforts. I took a few shallow breaths. Tensed up, tried to relax, failed of course. Fine. Answer the damned question. And stay reasonable. A Daedric Prince is still no almighty being, and this one in particular wasn’t known for his excesses of power use. Make this manageable. “My father, my grandparents. I get that it’ll be awkward if I’m supposed to get older and don’t look it – I won’t, will I?”

“You won’t age, no. You’ll be stuck at this, and whatever magic or makeup tricks you can pick up. Alright. That’s doable, I guess. They’re all old enough for it to be not much of a problem. Keep your visits rare enough that they don’t get too used to a certain look. Here’s a hint. Next time you meet, and none too soon, make yourself look younger somehow. Then when you meet later and you look normal, it’ll appear older to them. People will believe what they want, and what they can wrap their heads around. Most parents and grandparents don’t leap to the conclusion ‘vampire’. But be cautious. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Good. Then they can live.”

“Thanks.”

He fidgeted with his tea cup. “Normally, they don’t thank me for that. They get upset about the rest.”

“I like to be realistic.”

He snorted. “That’ll serve you well. Anyone else that’s as easy as that?”

“Speaking of older people. My fellow tenant, Agarica. This is more out of principle. We’re not all that close; I’m not all that close to anyone; but she’s…” I tried to figure out a way to phrase the impression that had been buzzing around my mind since earlier that day. “She complains about her lot in life, and about her relatives that are better off and so on. I’m the one she gets to complain to. But she… Well, despite the misunderstanding there, she tried to help me better my own situation. You know. Catch the wealthy admirer, get out of that quarter we live in, and so on. That’s actually rare. Most people aren’t like that. _I’m_ not like that, I’m telling you that right now.”

He laughed. “I know. I never approach the truly selfless ones. Sometimes the ones who think they’re selfless, and see what happens when they’re confronted with what they were actually after, behind the front, but… Anyway. One old lady for principles. There’s the Colovian in you; your mother would probably be proud. Alright, can do. I’ll offer her some position in the countryside, I’m sure I can find some old wealthy people who suddenly find themselves lacking a governess or something, and I’ll provide one. Sounds good?”

“Sounds good.” I realised I had just spelled the doom of a hapless countryside governess, but if you want something, and the price isn’t even yours to pay, you take the favour and shut up.

“Good.” He pointed his spoon at me. “I do like working with a realist for once. Should pick the type more often. But you’re a long-term project, that’s different from amusement. Now let’s see how well that holds up. Let’s cut it here. You’ve been sensible and practical and all those good and boring things. But you’ll understand I can’t make any guarantees like that for the younger crowd. That includes friends, cousins, ex-husbands… Understood?”

“I figured as much.”

“Good.” He tapped the spoon onto the table. “Not even the ex-husbands? Neither of them? No problem? You know, you picked them too young back then. If you’d chosen some old general or gentleman like around here, we could be talking, but…”

“There are reasons we separated. I’m not sentimental.”

Clavicus whistled. “You know, you and I may actually be able to work with each other. And you may just survive your order.”


	5. Chapter 5

When he took me home, the kitchen was crowded with tenants and city guards.

“There she is!” Agarica pointed at me and then dropped her hands heavily on my shoulders. “These guards want to talk to you, but don’t worry, we already told them everything we know.”

The sinking feeling in my stomach was joined by a jittery unease and the thought that this Prince really got things done when he wanted to, whatever it was that he had gotten done here.

She turned to Clavicus. “And you are here, too, thank the Divines.” Now she addressed the guards. “This is the gentleman friend, the one from last night that took her home early, we saw them, Carenna and I. He gave her that lovely coronet she’s wearing; we could see it plain as day from our windows, so we had to meet up and have a chat about it.”

Carenna, Agarica’s sometimes nemesis and sometimes gossip ally, nodded vigorously. “I said last night, I said, he’s a bit on the short side, but if he’s got gold, that makes up for it.”

I snorted, and several guards had obvious difficulty keeping a straight face.

Then the apparently highest-ranking one turned to me with a serious expression. “You’re lucky, lady. Getting out of there when you did. You can thank Dibella for holding her hand over you last night. Lunatic murdered your companions. All the guests, some of the servers. Got there sometime after you left. Kitchen staff reported shouts of ‘I’ll show her who the better alchemist is, me or Saranus,’ and let out gaseous poison and stabbed a few with a poisoned blade. It was a mess. The only ones that survived were the ones locked away in the back area, kitchen and bookkeeping and so on.” He pursed his lips. “I’m sorry. Well. Now you know, and besides everyone can confirm that you left with this gentleman for alone time, so our work here is done. Good evening.”

They made their exit, while I tried to gather my thoughts, my words, anything that would come to mind.

Agarica patted my shoulder. “I’m sure they were fine young people. But you have to look forward now. At least you survived, Divines be thanked.”

I won’t even get into the layers of irony here.

Clavicus stepped up and put on a show of being shocked and distressed, and deciding, as the well-to-do gentleman admirer, that there was no way he would let me stay in this area, this was getting much too dangerous, with crazy murderers on the loose, and he was getting me to safety to his parents’ Daenia countryside retreat for now until we found a different solution.

I made a half-hearted show of hesitation; he reiterated what he had said before in different words and different context, that he knew I had worked hard to get to the City, but this was getting far too dangerous now.

Agarica stepped up close and hissed at me, “Do it. This is your chance. But watch out for the parents. The parents are always the biggest obstacle. Make sure you charm them.”

I finally agreed to the fake plan.

“Good,” said Clavicus, “a woman who listens! This is a miracle in itself.”

After some more talk of false details, and after most of the house’s crowd had dispersed, Clavicus turned to Agarica in a show of a pensive mood and, saying I had talked well of her, offered her a position as a governess with his distant relatives in Marbruk, who wanted to make sure their rowdy son got some Imperial manners and learning and wouldn’t turn into a wild Bosmer effigy. His last governess had regrettably fled after some scandal, so now they wanted someone more resolute, and someone of an age in which scandal was unlikely.

Agarica hemmed and hawed, and I told her in return to do it, this was her chance to get out of there.

Clavicus insisted it would be a great relief for his cousin’s education to be ensured while he had other business, and he’d arrange all the transport and have a guard hired, too.

Finally, she agreed with the biggest toothy grin.

And that was that. He kept word to us both. I later got a forwarded letter from Agarica from her new position.

As for myself, I was dropped off in a small town in Rivenspire and given use of a house with tacky décor that had been the secret love shack of a Breton merchant until his lover’s husband found out and killed him in a duel.

The locals were happy to have it taken over by a hopefully scandal-free not-quite-young-anymore Imperial woman on her healer’s advice, for a quiet small town life and the lofty air of Rivenspire to help cure her taxing illness. My pale complexion was testament to my need of rest.

I replaced the flowers and spirits in the house with books and tea, threw out the garish clothes left in the trunks and replaced them with dreadfully sensible town dresses, and didn’t leave the house much except for small walks around dusk, when the air is fresher, you see; dawn, too. The midday sun always makes me lightheaded.

I got a steady allowance from my concerned pretend-family and occasional letters from my less concerned real family.

After a time, I took up translation and simple calculation work for the town dwellers’ assorted businesses for spare gold.

Soon they were too used to their drab and unremarkable new neighbour to wonder about any irregularities.

A lesson: When you’ve decided you want to be a vampire, or when someone else has decided for you that you want to be a vampire, you spend a whole lot of time in hiding.

And so the years went by.


	6. Rivenspire interest groups

There comes the time when even the most practical disguise outlives its use.

Restlessness was coming to Rivenspire, even to our little backwater town, and the surrounding woods were filling up with more brigands and military than travelling merchants and secret lovers. That meant going hungry for ever longer stretches, and that was no good. So eventually, I informed my neighbours that I was going to take some trips to the cities and other settlements looking for employment and perhaps new medicine.

And so with some bags packed, I took a carriage west, took temporary residence in a dingy town inn, and went to exploring the surroundings.

Unfortunately, the further west one went, the worse the ravages of war and internal strife were showing, and the less opportunities there were for feeding in a sensible way as mandated by my nominal order and by my own common sense.

The hunger grew worse and so did my irritability. And so eventually, the sensible ways had to stand aside, and I went into the woods at night to stalk mercenaries.

Now in case it wasn’t obvious, my previous occupations in an alchemist’s shop and in a small-town hideout allegedly trying to recover from an illness did not _precisely_ predispose me towards stalking, much less the stalking of mercenaries. Clavicus had taught me how to feed discreetly in a few ways, and when I had asked about not-so-discreet ways for emergencies, he had said, “Those don’t exist. Not for you. Find a way. Besides, you’re directly from me, as pure-blood as it gets, you won’t go crazy or anything. You’ll just be very weak and very hungry until you get to feed again. The less I teach you of the stuff you won’t need, the less temptation there’ll be.”

Clavicus knows people, but there were things he still had to learn. When the hunger is big enough, no temptation is out of reach. Unnecessary questions of competence or even basic ability fall by the wayside. (Let’s not even speak of morals, but I think he knew about that part.)

So there I was in the depth of the woods, darkness and needles around me, the fresh scent of earlier rain on the ground, far enough away from battlegrounds to be untainted by lingering smells of bodies and decay. A good place to feed. Oh, who am I kidding, anything would have been a good place to feed to me at that point, including a battlefield healer’s camp. If you don’t know what it’s like, count yourself lucky, and hope you stay that way.

The mercenary I’d picked out was a Breton like all his comrades, a big but slow-moving sort, who was alone on a nightly inspection round in the area. I could not expect to overpower him. Instead, I hoped to overcome his mental resistances with some magic and get him to sleep or at least stun him long enough.

Unfortunately, that’s not how it went. As soon as I cast my first spell, he spun around with sudden speed, closed up to me, grabbed my arm and wrestled me to the ground. Panic set in, but my only slightly heightened capabilities were just that: nothing remarkable, and dulled by hunger besides.

“I know what you are,” the man snarled. “I’ve seen your like around here. You won’t have my blood, vampire.” With his free hand, he drew an axe from his belt.

I struggled, then stopped and concentrated and tried a stunning spell, but he just laughed it off.

“Don’t try that weak stuff on me,” he said and raised the axe above my throat.

‘Clavicus,’ I thought, ‘Akatosh… if you’ll still listen.’

“Stop!” a woman’s voice rang out.

The mercenary stopped in his motions. I tried to get out of his grip, but he wouldn’t have it.

A moment later, a pretty priestess of Arkay appeared next to us.

The mercenary sneered. “You picked the wrong damsel to rescue, priestess. This one’s a vampire. I’ll just get this over with. You can thank me later.”

“Stop!” she repeated. “I know who she is. She’s harmless, a victim.”

Was I?

He laughed. “Tell that to her. She was trying to get me to sleep so she could suck my blood.”

The priestess shook her head. “Her mother bade us look for her. These… bastards,” she spat the word, “that have been roaming the countryside, sewing chaos, have turned her recently. She hasn’t been feeding, ran away in shame. I suppose the hunger got the better of her now. But it’s alright now.”

A nice story; good thing nobody there knew my mother was dead. I wasn’t sure why she was doing this, maybe some kind of women’s solidarity, I reasoned, or true compassion of a priestess of mercy that wasn’t yet jaded from years of her work. But I’m not one to turn down gifts and opportunities, especially in matters of life and death.

I looked at her, pleading with my eyes.

She met my gaze with her pretty clear eyes. The colour was hard to see in the dark, but they seemed to be shining. “It’s alright now,” she said in a soothing voice. “We can cure you. You didn’t know, did you? Your mother is waiting. It’ll be alright.”

This was a bad time to insert that I had no interest in being cured, so I nodded as well as I could, being still stuck to the ground. Got some twigs tangled in my hair, great.

The mercenary faltered at last. “You sure about that?”

“I’m sure,” the priestess said. “Now let her go. She won’t harm you. Right?”

“Right,” I muttered.

“At your risk,” he said, got off me and heaved his heavy frame off the ground. While I scrambled up, he secured his axe in its place on his belt. “Well. Good luck then.” Shot me a side glance then. “Good luck to you, too. No hard feelings, eh?”

I had to smile at that. “No hard feelings. Sorry about that.” Too casual for a traumatised fresh vampire that didn’t want to feed. I buried my face in my hands. “What am I doing? I tried…”

He grumbled something. Then got more intelligible. “Get yourself back on track. Don’t go out at night. Better don’t go out at all for a while. We’re trying to keep order here, but it’s like herding rabid skeevers.”

I nodded as meekly as I could. “I’m sorry again.”

“Yeah, no harm done.” He paused. “Arkay’s blessing with you. I guess if his priestess says so…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Muttered something else and left.

The priestess stepped up to me. “We should go.”

“We should go… where exactly?” Damn. Next thing to deal with. “Wait. First, thank you. He almost got me. I don’t know what… Thank you.”

She smiled. Leaned closer. “I lied. I’m afraid, I can’t cure you. But I can take you to feed. We have ways.”

“You do?”

“Only for those ethical enough not to hurt those they feed from. I’ve been watching you. You haven’t fed in a long time, have you?”

“You’re right about that.”

“And when you got desperate, you still tried to use a sleeping spell. That means you didn’t want to hurt this man. So come along. We have… volunteers. For people like you.”

Everything about this smelled of a trap, but I was too hungry and exhausted to care. Take opportunities when they come up. Right?

I sighed. “Alright. I’ll bite. I mean…”

She smiled. “We’re going to the Chapel of Arkay’s Mercy. We’re not with the main temple. A side branch, you could say, that focuses on practical help for people with your condition.” She looked around, looked at me, then smiled, baring sudden fangs. “And mine.”


	7. Chapter 7

The Chapel of Arkay’s Mercy was a hut in the woods surrounded by unruly shrubbery. When you entered, it was gloomy and had but the most necessary trappings to make it recognisable as a chapel.

The priestess opened the hatch to the basement, went ahead and then called me down after doing her preparatory speech to get me admission. With a lot of apprehension, I followed her down, closing the hatch above me.

In a dark room, glowing pairs of eyes were fixed on me, some red, some of different colours. And some regular. Mortals. Normal people. The ‘volunteers’?

The priestess that had saved me stepped up to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. “This is the Chapel of Arkay’s Mercy. I’m Nanacie Ancel.” Her now bright-red eyes illuminated a coy smile. “Welcome, sister. What’s your name?”

This one liked show and drama. I thought of using a fake name for a moment but then thought against it. I was too hungry to think of a good one, and I was among vampires anyway. “Melima Aemilia. Thanks for having me, I suppose.”

A spindly woman in a plain black robe stepped up, and people made way for her. So the leader, I surmised.

Nanacie introduced her: “This is Liocie Ancel. My mother. She built up this group.”

We made our greetings, and then the local high priestess of Arkay said to me, “Before we fully welcome you into our ranks, you will speak the customary oaths. Speak after me. I vow not to misuse my gift in harmful ways.”

I frowned. “That’s a tall order. We’re biting people and drinking their blood, I mean at least their skin comes to harm.”

Her lips twitched. “Do you want to feed or not?”

“I’ve been warned about what I agree with. I can go hungry for a while longer, though I’d hate it. But if I promise not to harm people and then I bite one of your… volunteers the next moment, you’ve got me. I shouldn’t be doing that.”

Liocie smiled a thin smile. “Take it as a broad oath, not so technically.”

“Oh no,” I said, “with oaths you want to be very technical. The littlest word can hang you. I’ll vow for my good intentions not to intend to murder people, but… Honestly, eternity’s a long time. Is this for while I’m part of the cult, or forever? I can’t promise forever.”

I hear Nanacie snort next to me.

Liocie exhaled. “Imperials. Here in High Rock we don’t weigh words the same way. What we are interested in is the ideal. Imagine you’re a courtier.”

“I can’t, not with my mentor. And not with oaths. Those are serious. You make them, you hang yourself if you do it wrong, even if it’s just to yourself.”

She sighed. “Fine. Because Nanacie vouched for your ethical nature. Let’s do this the Imperial way then for our unpoetic and unchivalrous neighbour. Do you promise, while you are in Rivenspire and while you regularly come to our chapel for social visits, support and feeding, to spare mortals where you can, and do your best not to kill or unnecessarily harm those you feed from while you do?”

It sounded reasonable enough, and she’d said ‘promise’ this time, not ‘vow’. That’s a difference. “That I do,” I said. “I find that tasteless anyway. Just a note here, I’m rather new to this. I try my best, I do that anyway. But I may get things wrong in the moment. Still learning.”

Another sigh. “That’s better than nothing. You’re Colovian, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

Her expression twisted into an ironic smile. “That refreshing forthrightness. Fine. Next. Do you promise not to reveal any member of our group to non-vampires without their consent?”

“I’ll do my best. If a wizard puts me on a truth serum or if someone gets out torture instruments, I won’t promise anything.”

Liocie turned to her daughter. “Turn this one into more of a local, please, this is unbearable. But fine. The last one. Do you vow…”

“Vow this time?” I noted.

“Vow,” she confirmed. “Do you vow to honour our patron Molag Bal and obey his decrees as they come?”

“That I can’t do. On account that he’s not my patron.”

She was starting to look a little irritated now. “Child, he’s everyone’s patron.”

“Not mine. My mentor was very particular about that part. He wants one of his own, and that’s me. So I can’t do that.”

“Your mentor?”

“You’ve already figured out where I’m from.” I stopped myself. Reminded myself I was still in a highly dangerous situation. Best not to get too insolent.

Liocie’s eyes widened a little. Just a little, but visibly nonetheless. “Perhaps I need not ask, but humour me. Who is that mentor you speak of?”

“Clavicus Vile. He made me. No Molag Bal involved.” Perhaps a bit much to say, but better apologise about indiscretion later than to lose my ground on this issue or be torn apart by a vampire cult in the woods so early on in my new life.

“So you are saying you’re pure-blooded.”

“I… Yeah, I guess I am saying that.”

“And your ‘mentor’ is currently…?”

“Busy with something or other,” I said, “but he’ll check in on me eventually. And then I don’t want to have made vows to honour Molag Bal. Sorry, but if this is what’s needed here, I have to take my leave. I promise the secrecy and all.” I turned to Nanacie. “Should I have clarified that before we got here? Didn’t think it’d become an issue. I thought you were more… worldly. Or…” I attempted a crooked grin. “You know, following Arkay.”

Poor Nanacie looked troubled at the situation. “Mother, we have to let her in. What difference does it make? She’s a vampire like us.”

A pale Redguard mortal raised his hand. “My lady. If I may. I know I’m not a vampire, but I’m a part of this group all the same, am I not?”

Liocie gave a grudging nod. “Go on.”

“I didn’t take the vow to Molag Bal either. I still honour Stendarr. Never been an issue.” He smiled, and one could tell it was a smile he made himself dare show. “What’s one more foreigner and her customs? Sure, she’s not Covenant, but your High King loves the Empire, doesn’t he?”

“It’s not about politics,” Liocie hissed. Side-eyed me. “Except to those, it’s always about politics.”

“Mother,” Nanacie said. Just that.

“Oh for Oblivion’s sake,” the high priestess of Arkay sighed at last, “fine, bring your Vile worship, don’t take the oath to Molag Bal; I suppose it beats having to destroy you now that you’re already here. Thank my daughter and Saradin at-Gidal. Welcome to the fellowship.”

I exhaled in relief. “Thank you.” Noticed I was shaky now. Sometimes you only catch up to what danger you were just in after it’s passed.

“Thank you, mother,” said Nanacie and linked her arm with mine. “Follow me. I’ll show you around. And then you can feed. Who would you…” Her eyes fell on the Redguard. “Saradin, would you? Do you have blood to give still?”

I forced a smile. “I’m sorry. That’s what you get for your trouble. If it doesn’t work now, I can wait, too.”

He gave an exaggerated bow. “You’re welcome to feed, my lady. Let me just prepare.” As he straightened up, he winked. “That’s how those chivalrous sorts are supposed to do it, right? Don’t worry, though. I’ll be alright.”

I thanked him and let myself be dragged away by the princess of the court for a tour of the castle.


	8. Chapter 8

After our tour of the lair, which of course stretched out much farther underground than just the radius of the little hut, how else could it be for a vampires’ lair, I got to feed on the culturally remarkably tolerant Redguard that had bravely stood up for me, almost like the ideal Breton knight for the ideal courtly lady, though neither of us would ever be either of those, and at least for my part, I had no physical interest in him beyond his blood.

For his part, he hinted at something a little more complex, on a general scale.

He, Nanacie, and I were alone for the feeding, and I learned people usually withdrew to side rooms for that, for the sake of decorum and proper manners, or whatever they decided to define as such in the context of biting someone and drinking their blood. I wondered then if all vampires were so un-self-aware.

The feeding itself was rather clean and practical. He appeared freshly bathed (Nanacie said, “After all, mortals wash their food or the glasses they drink from, too”), I got offered a spot on his arm to bite, and drank my fill while trying to be considerate about light-headedness. Not everyone can be a Daedric Prince for whom that’s merely worth a joke.

Nanacie then used a simple healing spell for his wound, and it closed up as if it’d never been there. Which told me she knew more than a bit. I’d learned a few spells of the sort, and Clavicus had taught me the basics to make my bites disappear, but I wasn’t as quick about it at the time. That took practice.

But she was quick and efficient, and he looked untouched except for his pallor. And over the course of the evening, even that faded, or reverse-faded, if you will. Not everyone can be a Daedric Prince that will nonchalantly keep your bite wound on his wrist and offer you jewellery from the same hand, like an intriguing double prize.

My trains of thought hinted to me that I might have the beginnings of a problem.

To distract myself, I asked my ‘volunteer’ why he was doing this anyway. Or why any of them were doing this.

At first he gave an obviously rehearsed line about helping the cursed with Stendarr’s mercy and keeping them from true sin. “Where there is voluntary exchange, there is no harm done, and no sin committed. That way the cursed can stay on the right path and find mercy when their end comes after all.”

I found that notion impressive actually, and regretted that it sounded so studied.

Then he grinned and lowered his voice, and added, “Besides, it’s not like I’m not getting anything from this. The other thralls are the same. Not everyone will admit it, so don’t ask them. But now you know.” He straightened his shoulders, letting the sleeve of his tunic fall back down to cover his arm.

I didn’t truly know how to react to this in a tactful manner, leave alone the Breton chivalric way, but I grinned despite myself, and said, “I see. Well, I thank you for the information.” And since this was getting into a direction I didn’t want to pursue, swerved aside to the neighbouring topic: “I like what you said there earlier. Sounds nice. Of course, where I’m from now, there can be a lot of harm and sin done in voluntary exchanges, and sometimes that’s the point, but it’s nice that Stendarr’s got different ideas about that. That’s got to exist, too, in the world.”

Saradin snorted. “Well, if you ever get tired of Daedric deals…”

“Unlikely,” I said, “but thanks.”

“Unlikely, or not happening?”

More persistent than a Breton courtier would have been, and by then it was blurry what any of that referred to, though most likely different topics, and one more than the other. Didn’t make a difference in either direction.

“Not happening,” I said.

“See? We can talk clearly. That’s alright. I’ll see you ladies later.” He gave a nod.

Nanacie interfered. “Just one moment. Can I ask both of you not to speak of this… aspect of some thralls’ motivations to others in the group? Or outsiders who learn about us. We know that such things are a factor for some, and I say some, not all, please don’t generalise. But this is not what we would like to…”

“Right, right,” Saradin said with a light sneer. “Chapel of Arkay’s Mercy. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Thank you,” she said, and turned to me with a questioning look.

“I won’t make promises about my mentor. Those tend to know things anyway. And I don’t even know any other vampires I’d talk to. But sure, here I’ll act as if this was all benevolence and this or that Aedra’s idea.”

Nanacie pursed her lips, but the smile fought its way through, and she relented at last. “That’s fine.”

“A question though. You worship Molag Bal. Why would he care? Too much voluntary exchange?”

Saradin snorted. “I like this one,” he said. Turned to me. “You can drink from me again. Even if you insist on the wrong Prince, too.”

“It’s my mother,” Nanacie said. “And the ideal we try to follow here. We’re not simply animals. We don’t just follow our blood lust. Or… any other. If anyone does, that is their personal issue that we don’t want to hear about. We want a way to keep away from that life and that nature as much as we can.” She put on a smile that was clearly not real and nodded towards Saradin. “It’s almost like what you said earlier, except genuine.”

Now I had to grin for real. “I like you.”

She returned the smile, and it reached her eyes this time. “I don’t know much about Cyrodilic vampires, but you value moderation, and fitting in, and not succumbing to blood lust and beast hood, correct? You can find that with us. I don’t know why you’re here and not at home but…”

“For learning,” I said. “I’m all fresh. Just a few years. And not a few vampire years where it’ll be decades or centuries, but a few years. My mentor made it clear to me that I’m not ready for my home ground’s order, and… That comes across as insulting, I’m sorry.”

She let out a bright laugh. “Oh please, don’t worry, I can only imagine what kind of image we must have given off.” She turned to Saradin with a stern impression that for some reason you bought. “I would appreciate less of that for future members.”

He gave a mock bow. “Yes, my lady. Well. I’ll be off then. I need my sleep. But you may want to remember one thing, amid your chivalry and benevolence. Truth isn’t a thing that hurts you. Covering up does.”

He gave me a nod and left us alone.

Nanacie made an annoyed sound and let herself drop onto a sofa.

I pointed next to her. “Can I?”

“Yes, of course.” She scooted to the side, and I sat down next to her.

“Sorry,” I said, “did I… I feel like I handled all this badly somehow.”

She shook her head. “You’re fresh, and you had to have a certain impression. I promise we’re better than that.” She looked aside at that. Just for a moment. Gave an exaggerated sigh and looked back to me. “In any case, don’t get carried away with allying with the foreign blood, and the kind of alliance that would forge. It’s not what will help you in the long run.”

“I can see the sense in that,” I said, because I could.

She nodded. “Good. Now don’t worry anymore. Let me tell you some more. What inspired us was the court of the Count of Ravenwatch. This is a secret, but I’ll tell you, so you understand us. And where we come from. Idea-wise.”

“He’s a vampire,” I said, “I read those books, too.”

“Those…”

“Raven of Midnight?” I grinned. “I was bored, in a very boring hideout, and the housewives in town were passing these around. Some quality investigative literature there.”

Nanacie bit her lip laughing. Covered her mouth with her hand, dropped it to reveal a governess’s stern face. “Of course we put no stock in such filth and slander.”

“Of course not.”

She laughed again. “But what is true is that he’s a vampire, his court consists mostly of vampires, and they keep voluntary thralls to feed on. My mother wanted to introduce the same for the common people.”

Somehow none of that was surprising. “Oh of course,” I said, “the nobility is living the good life again, and the commoners can see where they get their dinner from. And we’re the soup kitchen.”

“Yes. Arkay’s soup kitchen. Or Stendarr’s. Or Molag Bal’s. Or, I suppose, Clavicus Vile’s, too, if you decide to stay with us.”

“I’ll tell him next time he visits that he’s invested in a soup kitchen. He’ll be so happy.”

I would get the opportunity sooner than I’d thought. Though not him personally. Arguably.


	9. Chapter 9

When I got back to my inn room, a large, scruffy grey dog was waiting for me. “About time you came back,” the dog said. “Mortals always have to talk so damned much over dinner. Almost like my master. He always talks too damned much over everything.”

It took me a moment. I’ll excuse myself with the fact that it was late and it had been a long day, and I had just fed for the first time after a long period of hunger. You don’t think too straight at those times.

“Barbas,” I finally said. “Right?”

“Right,” he said.

“It’s nice to meet you. Clavicus promised he’d arrange a meeting.”

“Yeah, but this was just me. Call it interest.” He loped up to me and sniffed my hand and my calves, walked around me, stood in front of me.

“Uhm,” I said, standing frozen in my spot.

“You’re alright,” he presented his judgment. “Loyal. Didn’t sell my master out. We can use you.” His canine expression turned to what had to be a smile, tongue hanging out. “You can pet me now.”

“Can I? I… Oh fuck it.” I reached out and pet his head, definitely awkwardly at first.

He wagged his tail.

I gradually got used to the thought and proceeded to pet the immensely powerful Daedric dog in front of me.

“You don’t really know what to do with people, do you? If anyone ever needed my master’s intervention, it’s you. And just like his logic goes, you, he decides he likes as you are. He’s never had any sense.”

Nice words to hear, behind the barb. “Didn’t you just say I was alright?”

“You are. Normally mortals come to him cause they want to be less alright. And he helps them. So you turned down Molag Bal, indirectly but still. That’s good. Most of them cave. The power or whatever. _And_ you turned that Redguard down. Good for you. Maybe. Or bad for you. We’ll see, huh?”

I blinked, trying to process what was being said, and implied, and over all that processing I shamefully neglected to pet the dog, which he protested by nudging my hand roughly with his head.

So I continued petting.

“See, you’re a good one,” he said.

Somehow he makes you feel like since it’s him saying it, it must be true, even if you never believe it otherwise.

“How’s he?” I asked.

If dogs can grin, he was grinning. “Miss him?”

What was going on here? I was briefly annoyed, but then I had to remember my own trains of thought, and that he’d just called me a good one, and that was rare enough that I felt I ought to repay him with some honesty. “Yeah. It’s been a while.”

Dogs can definitely grin. Then he shook his head and stepped away. Petting time was over; time for serious talk. “Busy with some stupid scheme he’s getting himself dragged into. Won’t listen to me. So I’ll have to go along instead. Can’t leave him to his own devices. This won’t go well, but maybe it won’t go too badly either.” He pricked his ears. “Hey.”

“I’m listening. Anything I can do?”

“You can stay out of that. He wants you alive and well for later. This one’s going to be a mess, and way over your head. Wait it out, play with your local vampires, but not too much.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. But. There’s something more.” He cocked his head, then cocked it to the other side. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Should I tell him to visit?”

Immensely powerful Daedric hound and if the more intelligent literature on the subject could be believed, an aspect of a Prince, and my mentor. So I told myself. Choose your words. This will have consequences.

“Yeah, tell him. Can you do that? I don’t want to get on his nerves, but…”

“You won’t. So I tell him?”

“Yeah.”

He wagged his tail. “You got it.” And he vanished.

I reckoned I had just gotten a particular kind of approval, and one I couldn’t really have done anything active to get. You got it, or you didn’t.

I barely slept that night. But it wasn’t so bad.

I didn’t know a lot about the future. But I was getting to know some things about myself.

I also knew that I was still a terrible courtier.


	10. Chapter 10

Life went on. I learned about the region, did some subpar translation work for coin where merchants didn’t want to run to the Mages Guild or other institutions that overcharged and paid overt attention to what it was they were translating, went to Arkay’s soup kitchen for regular feeding. Nanacie introduced me to more of the members and the customs and did her best to teach me some Breton decorum. Maybe some of it stuck. It seemed a quiet life again, almost as before in my small town, just with vampires in it now.

Clavicus visited from time to time, his visits growing more frequent over time. He didn’t want to talk about the project he’d gotten himself roped into, saying “I don’t want to talk about work trouble; I want to forget about it. Tell me about your vampires.” So I did.

He increasingly cautioned me to stay low and unseen for now, and brought news from Cyrodiil (everything in shambles, idiocy all around), the rest of High Rock (lots of people who loved politics too much and then refused to play by its rules), and occasionally other regions. He brought books and regional courier papers from anywhere he felt like, and we talked about the contents. Anything to keep me informed and content in my isolation. He gave advice, told me more about the Cyrodilic vampire order, and we talked about politics, the fine arts, the less fine arts, food and drink and blood.

At last he let slip a bit more about his project, mentioning Nocturnal and Mephala.

“So the most trustworthy business partners you can think of,” I said.

“I know, I know,” he said and leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs, chewing on his lower lip. Looking at once relaxed and annoyed at the situation. “Sometimes you’ve got to take your chances to get ahead.”

“Get ahead how?” I asked.

“Not telling you. You’re staying out of that.”

“Alright,” I said. Cut off clearly as always.

After a moment he muttered, to me or to himself, or to both, “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”

If he had been willing to take serious advice, he would have listened to Barbas before, so I said instead, “Drop out. Become a hermit like me. It’s not so bad.”

He snorted. “You, me, and the dog?”

He included me in the idea, unbidden. Interesting. I smiled. “Why not?”

“The ultimate resignation. Lock down my realm, ask for asylum.” His voice was morose and cheerful both. He cocked an eyebrow at me. “A demiprince or two?”

“Not sure I’m the motherhood type. At least the traditional way.”

“We can figure something out the non-traditional way. I’m a Daedric Prince, you know.”

I grinned. “I’d almost forgotten. In that case…”

“And if it doesn’t work… Cats? That’s what mortals do, isn’t it?”

“I like cats,” I said.

“Cats then.” He got up, refilled both our flin glasses, and raised his. “We’ve got a plan.”

Never, ever assume a joking pact with Clavicus Vile is just a joke and will not have consequences. No matter how ridiculous. No matter how unlikely.

I raised my glass. “We’ve got a plan.”

A slow smile spread over his face, and he raised his glass further, peering at me over the rim. Then he downed the flin, and I followed suit, and he refilled.


	11. Chapter 11

One night, Liocie assembled us all in the chapel basement for an announcement, as she said.

Usually announcements don’t require a redecorating of the place with a stage platform, stocks, and a chopping block. Not even for Bretons. This one did.

And as it is with these things, even if you haven’t done a thing, or no more than what’s expected anyway, you still feel that gnawing sense of unease, because if you’ve learned anything about people in your lifetimes of various lengths, you’ll have learned that when these kinds of instruments come out, you can’t rely on your conscience or on facts of what you have and haven’t done anymore. You know at that point, other forces have taken over the discourse of what’s just and appropriate.

The man in the stocks was Renelet, a former Breton courtier that had invoked disgrace and banishment when his taste for blood was discovered. He had some barb and sneers for everyone, and I didn’t like how he talked to and about women, but we’d bonded occasionally over remarks aimed at the nobility, about whom he was probably bitterer than anyone present. Common story, too. The group that’s cast you out is always worse than the group that you’d never get into in the first place.

Liocie raised her arm, and the muttering in the assembly room died down. Nanacie stood with her on the pedestal with the accused, but off to the side. Her face was blank.

“I have called you all here,” Liocie began, “because one of our group has violated our rules. We do not have many, and we exercise leniency for certain cultural idiosyncrasies.” Her eyes wandered over the group, resting at me, and at a few others. “But about some decrees there can be no leniency, and justice must be swift and final.”

Final, huh.

The muttering around me told me that I wasn’t the only one to get the meaning of the words. Well. As if the chopping block up there hadn’t been enough. But sometimes you still hope. Think it’s just for show. Or try to think it for just a moment longer, anyway, against better judgment.

“This man, Renelet, has fed upon one of our volunteers against his will, and to the detriment of his health. He used violence and coercion, and ignored that his victim was in need of recovery. We cannot let this stand.” Liocie’s eyes met those of a thrall in our midst. Educare, a spindly pale tailor that, if one took one look at him, one would not recommend volunteering as a thrall at all. The kind of victim that made the deed look particularly distasteful, if you’ll forgive the pun.

I bit the inside of my lip. Why that one? To prove a point? To make matters even worse than they were no matter who he picked? Because Educare bragged about tailoring for the aristocracy from time to time? I caught myself with the thought that Renelet had to have known what the consequence would be. So why? Sheer hunger?

In my mind I thanked Clavicus for making me a pure strain without intermediaries or dilution and without the ferocity of hunger that those less fortunate than me knew. I didn’t make it a custom to do anything like pray to him; we didn’t have that kind of relationship; but just in my thoughts I wanted the gratitude noted. If it arrived with him, all the better.

“Educare,” Liocie said, “do you confirm this?”

The thrall shot furtive glances around, at the gathered crowd, at Renelet, grimly limp in the stocks, at Liocie, at Nanacie and her masklike neutrality. Then he nodded, quickly, as if afraid he’d change his mind otherwise. “I do,” he said with a thin voice. “I confirm it.”

“Good,” said Liocie, and turned to Renelet. “For this deed there can only be one punishment, to serve justice, to protect our group, and to deter those who would think to emulate you. And that punishment is death by beheading. Roland.”

A heavyset vampire stepped forward from the shadows, briskly removed Renelet from the stocks and placed him on the chopping block, holding his head down. “My lady.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Hold him in place.”

So he wouldn’t be the one to swing the axe. Though he’d looked the part. More murmurs went thought he crowd. But no one actually raised his or her voice to protest. Was she going to do it herself? I heard several voices wonder the same.

She stepped to the side. “Nanacie.”

My breath caught.

And then my friend nodded at her mother, turned to a shadow-shrouded spot to the side of the platform, picked up something heavy, and stepped to the front carrying a large two-handed sword with a glistening edge.

The crowd fell silent again. Vampires and thralls alike glanced at each other, but nobody seemed to dare to breathe, leave alone speak.

Nanacie got into position, raised the blade, looked down at the accused, who wasn’t struggling, hadn’t been struggling this entire time.

“May Arkay have mercy on your soul,” she said, and the blade went down in a clearly practised swing and took off his head, as cleanly as these things could go.

Then she walked off to the back of the stage with the bloodied blade and disappeared in the shadows.

Liocie stepped to the centre of the stage again. “There will be no feeding today. You can come back tomorrow. You are dismissed.”


	12. Chapter 12

When we left the chapel, we all took care not to end up on each other’s paths, nor to have to talk to each other or look at each other. The former community of muttering was broken. Solidarity had become dangerous.

Nothing for me to do but go home. I was hungry but not hungry enough to risk missteps while feeding, and I decided that playing by the rules of this temporary group was a good idea for the time being. I was also still processing what had just happened, and there was no access to Nanacie to talk about it. Instead, a walk through the woods on my own.

When I came home to my dingy inn room, Clavicus was there on my couch drinking my ale. Brought a smile to my face.

Once we had done our greetings and I’d installed myself next to him with a glass of ale of my own, he said, “What I was actually going to tell you. I paid some attention.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“As for your ex-husbands. The ones you’re not sentimental about. For good reason, I might add. Awful what happened to them.”

“Ah.”

“Won’t be connected to you. I know what I’m doing. A deplorable incident in the war that’s going on, for the first one, you know how it is. Told you that place was getting unsafe. Well, unsafe’s an understatement. You won’t be going home for a long time.” He sat his glass down on the rickety table. “The other, a suicide. Terrible when people’s past catches up to them.”

“Right. Terrible.”

“So, few birds down with one stone. Or a few more stones. Setting chains of events in motion is more my style when I’ve got the time. Just throwing a single stone leads to crude results. And I took the time here. Anyway. Some loose ends about you gone.” He steepled his fingers, leaned forward, eyes inspecting me. “And no one to bother you anymore. You’re safe.”

Relief is often described as a lightening feeling, but this one was heavy. Heavy like a bear fur blanket in winter. “Thanks.”

He nodded, leaned back, fingers still steepled, still watching me. “Just in case it needs clarification. In general. I disapprove. I mean, of them.”

“Thanks for that, too. I mean it.”

“Mmh.” He slapped his hands down on his thighs and sat up. “So. Your vampires. A mess, isn’t it?”

“Looks like it.”

“Stressed?”

“Yeah.”

Clavicus picked up his glass and let himself sink into the couch again. “Me, too. If I never have to work with those two again, it’ll be too soon.”

I smiled and raised my glass. “To… sensible people one can talk to.”

He mirrored the gesture and drank.

I did, too. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He paused, then nodded. “Yeah, me, too.”

We got to talking about politics, and I watched him, his morose and stressed and still animated self next to me, dispensing his questionable opinions and dispensing with my ale, and my heart was racing like something was supposed to be happening soon, but nothing was; this was perfect calm within this mess of a world. I thought back on the things he’d said explicitly and implicitly, watched him some more, dispensed my own questionable opinions, dispensed with my own ale. And knew it was perfection.

“You know,” I said at last, “you don’t have to give up your realm entirely. That’s just one option.”

He paused and let a smile spread on his face. “But I could?”

“You could.”

“A Prince without a realm. Have you thought about that well?”

“I don’t have to think about that.”

His smile turned wry. “You’re trouble.” He seemed to look inward, and I let him, watched him some more.

“Say,” he started, then paused again. Shook back his right sleeve, baring his wrist. “Thirsty?”

Now I had to smile. Heart racing more. Looked at his wrist and back at his face. “I mean.”

“Go ahead.”

It would only be the second time after the one time in the city’s back alley, years ago. I reached out, still hesitantly, took his hand, moved my hand to his wrist, leaned over. “It seems like… it’d be more personal now.”

“Mhm.” Nothing more.

I could barely breathe. Well, this was as much assent as I was going to get, and I’d been thinking of this way too much for my own good. So I sank my fangs into the deceptively frail skin on his wrist and drank, carefully; couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t upset him or cross some boundary by mistake. It was a rush of colours again, and my thinking gave up its resistance and lay down dying. Somewhere in my mind I knew I had to stop eventually. So I did. Hesitated. There was more I’d been wanting to do. But that was out of the question. I looked at the clean bite wound with a hint of blood in the wrist I was holding in my hand.

“Want more?” His voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat with an audible smile.

“’s not that,” I said, my voice no better, “I mean. Yes, but also…” I couldn’t do that, say that. No way. I had to back off.

“You’re getting me curious. I like that. Go ahead. Something else?”

I took a deep breath, knew it sounded shaky. “Well.”

“Do I want to know? I think I want to know. Yeah, I want to know. Tell me. Show me. Whatever. Full license.”

I knew he knew how to talk to people, but that knowledge didn’t make me any less dizzy at his words. “At your risk,” I muttered.

“Yeah. It’s usually at your risk. Only fair.” If anything, his voice had gotten quieter.

I raised his wrist in my hand again, took another sip, noticed my heart racing again, paused, almost didn’t do anything. But I knew I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself. So I kissed his wrist, ran my tongue across the tiny bite wound.

I felt him shiver, and he inhaled shakily. “Now listen.”

I looked up at his half-closed eyes. Shivered, too. “I’m listening.”

I got one of those slow smiles then. “Mind if I turn the tables?”

Unexpected. Interesting.

“Trust me.”

Did I? “Yeah. I do. I mean. I trust you. I don’t mind. The opposite, probably.”

“Do you? You trust me? People don’t usually trust me. Or if they do, they’re idiots.”

I had to grin. “Well, I don’t know how conventionally smart it is, but I do. At least when it comes to me, I feel like I can. Don’t know about the rest of the world, but that’s not the issue.”

He returned my grin. “No pressure at all there. Well, guess you’re right to. For whatever that’s worth.”

“’s worth a lot.”

“Well then.” He looked pleased. Good thing. Then he got up and walked behind me.

I made to get up, too, but he laid his hands on my shoulders and kept me down. “Stay,” he said. Picked up my hair, twisted it up with one hand, the other still on my shoulder. He leaned in, and I felt his breath on the back of my neck. “Still trust me?”

“Yeah. For better and for worse.”

A moment later, I felt his breath closer and then his newly bared fangs punctured my skin, and I felt his lips, and I knew I was in deep trouble.

He paused. “Alright? Not light-headed yet?”

“Very light-headed. If I pass out, you’ll know what to do, right?”

He moved closer again, and I felt his smile against me. “From what?”

“Yes.”

“I’m seeing what all the fuss is about, too.” His breath tickled against my skin.

“Me, too.”

He moved in for another sip.

“I’m in deep trouble,” I eventually told him with difficulty.

“So’m I.”

He woke me up at the earliest trace of dawn. “Hey,” he said, looking down at me.

“Don’t tell me you have to go.”

“No, no. Of course not. I’ve got…” He rolled his eyes up in a show of calculating. “A few weeks here of lazing about while preparations are running. No. Hey.”

I reached up to stroke his very messy hair.

He smiled, then stopped smiling, looked at me. “So. You’re my woman now, right? And that’s how it stays?”

I had to smile. “Absolutely yes, I am.”

“Good. And when I have to be elsewhere, cause that’ll still happen, you’ll wait for me, right? No one else?”

He was fidgety, and he had apparently waited for the first moment that could in any way be construed as an acceptable daytime. Melted my questionably tempered heart. “No one else,” I promised. “I’ll wait. Just promise you’ll stick with me, and I can wait.”

“Good. Good. Promise. You can feed, of course, that’s just food, and I’m not always here. Just keep it that way.”

“Of course,” I said. “Oh, and I want the same from you. No one else. I don’t care how long you live, thanks to, you know, being a Daedric Prince. If you want companionship of this kind, there’s only me, and you’ll keep me intact and reasonably happy. Sound good?”

“Sounds good. Yeah. That was the idea.”

I smiled. “Perfect.”

“If I keep my realm, and don’t shut it down, like that one idea…” A brief smile. “Would you come over sometime? When we’re tired of this, or if I can’t keep you alive in, I don’t know, a reasonable or comfortable way? Things go wrong sometimes. Would you move over?”

“Yeah, I’d love to,” I said. “I’ve read it’s supposed to be pretty nice. ‘s that true? No nonsense like Coldharbour?”

Clavicus snorted. “Yeah, no, I keep it nice. Where’s the point in having a destination to lure people to if no one wants to be there? You even get to keep your free will, I mean that’s the point. Looking at you, Meridia.”

“Interesting. I see.” I grinned and leaned up and kissed him. “I like that.”

He tangled a hand in my hair, just as messy, got his fingers stuck. Grinned back at me. “Good. By the way, you didn’t have to worry about anything anyway. I don’t normally do this. Daedra, and all. I stand above that kind of thing, and…” His grin turned askew. “Well, we can see where that went. But that’s just you; I won’t be picking up any new habits elsewhere.”

“Good.”

“You’re safe.” He kissed my lips. “You’re cute.” Cocked his head. “Can I say that?”

I grinned. “Oh yes you can, keep saying it. You are, too. Can I say that?”

He snorted and lay down next to me in a more comfortable position, faced me. “ _You_ can.”

“Good.”

“Hircine won’t let me hear the end of this.”

I laughed. “So. I’ve been doing my Daedric rumours reading, as you can see. The ‘Mother of Hunters’, is she real?”

“Too real. Keeps trying to steal my dog. Sometimes I let her. We can’t be in one place all the time.”

I was impossibly amused. “Alright. So what’s he say?”

“He keeps bragging about his wife. Telling others to get someone, too. And I kept saying I don’t do that kind of thing, and he’s just fascinated with mortal nature of the primal kind, and that couldn’t happen to me.” A pause for effect. “Well.”

“Well.”

He grinned at me.

“So do I get that kind of status?”

“Mother of… Dealmakers?”

“That’s something. Not sure how maternal I am, but…”

“Not less than Adelina, I can assure you. But…” He looked at me more closely. “Wife? You want to?”

“Yeah. I mean…”

“We’ve already made an extensive deal, haven’t we? Might as well. And I don’t go back on my promises. Not to you anyway. Yeah.”

“Good.” The dizzy kind of happiness of the moment matched the beginnings of hazy cool sunlight lingering at the horizon. “How does this go? Do we just decide that’s how it is cause you’re a Prince and…” I snapped my fingers.

“I think that’s how it goes. A deal’s a deal, and a promise is a promise. Watch Barbas quote that back at me with the next mortal. Anyway. I’m not going to ask Mephala to bless our union.”

“We could go to the next Temple of Mara. Hope nobody figures anything out.”

He flipped on his back laughing. “Why not make it Stendarr? Go big or go home.”

“Perfect. Or Akatosh, back in Cyrodiil, with their new militant order. Aren’t they fighting about the Amulet of Kings again, you said? Invoke that somehow, that never went badly for anyone.”

“Declare our offspring to be Dragonborn.”

“Exactly.”

He paused. “You know, Akatosh still owes me a favour. I’ll have to call that in sometime. Maybe not for this. But I have to remember. So does Lorkhan. Though he blames me and says I caused the whole situation. Typical. But he won’t back down if I really need a favour of my own.”

“Now that’s interesting.”

“Yeah, isn’t it? I’m keeping those stored away. There’s always that time when things go really badly. Anyway, for us, let’s just say we decide on this. That’s how it is now. Oh, I said something about how you should be discreet and blend in, huh? You need a mortal explanation. Unless you want to look single.” His forehead wrinkled at that.

“I don’t want that.”

His features cleared up. “Excellent.”

“Paiunas was a charming gentleman. Have you convinced your difficult rich family we should go through with the marriage after all?”

“You know, that works. Let’s not bother with a new family name for you, no wait. Rich people. They’d expect that. That’s a pain. No, I take _yours_ cause my family was _against_ it. That’s perfect. Paiunas Aemilius. Fallen onto the hard, wooden ground of reality as a modest clerk, but it was all worth it for the wife. Yeah.”

“Wonderful. How much of that do I explain to the vampires? Do I go back to them at all?”

“You want to pry out that girl, Nanacie?”

“I realise I do.”

“Do that. If she follows you, she can know the truth. I’ve got my suspicions, but figure out first what she truly thinks. The rest get the mortal cover story. You were away for these weeks cause your city sweetheart finally made up his mind to elope. Works?”

“It’s ridiculous, but it works. I like it. I like how easy this is with you.”

“Uncomplicated. That’s usually best. And people are usually willing to believe others are being ridiculous. Everyone thinks they’re smarter than anyone else. Someone acting the fool? The most credible thing there is.”

I ran my fingers through his hair until they got stuck in tangles. “I like it. I like all of this.”

He smiled. “So do I. Careful now.”

I removed my hand from his hair tangle, and he shifted to trap me in the pillows.


	13. Chapter 13

“So tell me something,” Clavicus said, rummaging through my miniature food storage area behind the room’s excuse for a bar counter. “This is no good, by the way; you need to keep eating. Keep up the habit. It’s easy to lose and hard to pick back up. Seen it plenty of times; they think they don’t need to eat anymore, forget about it or are glad to have the inconvenience gone, and then when they have to eat in public to keep the pretence up, they can’t get it down anymore, and everything’s disgusting. Don’t do that. We’re going shopping later.”

“Right,” I said. “You sound like you have a point about that.”

“Good. Cause I do. So.” He turned to me. “What exactly is it that’s bothering you about the vampire execution? I’m asking cause Barbas always tells me I think I know how mortals think but I don’t actually. So I’m trying to figure this out with you. Not that you’re mortal anymore, but you started that way. You’re more predator now.” He shot me a lopsided grin, baring fangs. “I like that. Probably been inside you all along, just well hidden under day to day life and society and obligations and paperwork. This condition doesn’t create something out of nothing. But it sure coaxes it out where it’s already there and just taking a nap. Anyway. I know you don’t mind people dying, for misconduct or for no good reason other than that they’re in the way. Or is that just cause it’s me doing it?” He raised an eyebrow, mock-expectantly.

I laughed. “You do get particular license, but… Truth is, I really am that cold. Or close to it anyway. I need a reason to care. Or, sometimes I’d care on a general principle, but people have given me reason not to care. Like recent examples.”

“Right. Still, some people would complain to me about that. You don’t. Which I appreciate, by the way.” He hopped up to sit on the counter. “But you’re unhappy about what happened to that vampire, though he was one of the bad seeds. And you get testy when people insult women, and he did. So I wonder what it is.”

“Ah, good question,” I said. “One thing is, it makes the group unpredictable. There’s now an absolute leadership that keeps life and death in hand, and they got away with it. Doesn’t matter if one deserved it or not, could have been anyone in those stocks, could have been me; if they decide you go, you go. And no one will stop it. And reasons or justice don’t matter once that’s the case. Means everyone’s unsafe, and so of course everyone’s on edge, and people will start scheming against each other and do things to stay safe themselves, and… This never ends well.”

“Right. Right. Well…” Clavicus tapped his fingers on the counter in an irregular pattern, then stopped abruptly. “If I can’t watch over you, I’ll have Barbas do it. If neither of us can… Ah damn. Be careful. Worst comes to worst, I’m taking you to the Fields of Regret, and I’ll start spending a lot of time at home. But let’s try not to hurry that up quite yet, alright? I promise, you get that, but I want to continue this Nirn thing for a while longer, so try not to get killed.”

I had to laugh again despite the grim topic or because of it. “Got it. Thank you. I really, really appreciate that.”

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

“That’s not all, though. There’s something else. Leaving aside if someone deserves outright death for that… He might or might not; it makes me uneasy, but I guess among predators I’ve got to get used to the thought; got to protect others and so on. A bit of time in the stocks or in jail won’t reform someone like that necessarily.”

“Ah, I knew it. The fussy city lady’s coming through after all. Which isn’t a bad thing. Keep some of that. But you’re also right in that you’ll have to get used to things getting done this way. No one has mercy for vampires, especially not other vampires. And among those, especially not the Cyrodilic order, so I’ve really got to teach you to watch yourself. I’m hoping those Bretons will do some of the educating.”

“Well, they’re certainly teaching me a… probably healthy paranoia.”

He just nodded.

I went on. “But that aside. What I find, after some thinking, bothers me most is that it’s fishy.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he sat up straighter.

In turn, I sat down on the sofa and leaned back to think better. “The accused guy. He never fought back, not once, didn’t even complain, didn’t look like a criminal in the stocks but didn’t look like an innocent in the stocks either. He just looked resigned. Like he knew what was happening, and had absolutely no resistance against it, or like it didn’t matter what he did – well it probably didn’t, but – it’s more than that. We’re vampires. We don’t want to die. We take mortality really really badly, in fact. Worse than as mortals. I know with myself, and I’ve heard it happen to others, too. There should be some instinct even when it’s pointless. Some reaction, no matter how stupid. But not with him. It was like it all had very little to do with him at all. This was all happening, and that’s just what it was.”

Clavicus had started nodding pensively, and by the time I’d finished, looked me in the eyes and smiled. “I think,” he drew out, “we’re going to have fun with this.”


	14. Chapter 14

When I went back to Arkay’s soup kitchen, it was with some apprehension, cause it had been a while.

Nanacie, however, signalled that I needn’t have worried and that she was relieved to see me again and that she’d thought I’d left for good after that last display.

I said I wasn’t there to feed this time, but just for company. She looked really happy at that. Made me feel bad about my absence, but only a bit. Circumstances were what they were.

I looked at her more closely. Tired, fine lines showing more clearly in her features.

The atmosphere in the chapel was tense overall, and there were less visitors around. I’d first put it down to it being daytime, but that didn’t often make a big difference.

So it seemed things were not fine.

“You came back,” I heard Saradin’s voice behind me. He stepped closer. “Where’ve you been? Had enough of this viper’s nest, too? Can’t help but feed? Maybe it’s time to overthink those vows of yours.”

Don’t ask me what made me feel the necessity to defend Nanacie and her mother when I’d been stressed myself, to put it in Clavicus’s understated words. But I said, “It’s not that. I actually got married. Now I’m on a social call more than anything.”

That revelation had some impact. I got questions and told our contrived story of the handsome man from the too-good family that I’d met in Cyrodiil shortly before being turned and leaving. His family wouldn’t accept our marriage plans, and I’d withdrawn due to the vampirism, but he’d suddenly shown up on my doorstep, having followed my trail, because he couldn’t live without me and had left his family’s clutches and with that, his fortune. He’d accepted the vampirism, and we’d gotten married in a small private ceremony due to both of us being broke and friendless here.

It sounds ridiculous, but people do buy it. And upon some reflection, I have to concede it probably sounds less ridiculous than the truth.

Nanacie extracted us from the small group that had formed to talk more in private in a back office room.

“Did you really get married?” she asked, first thing.

“I did,” I said. Wasn’t sure on how much to trust her yet, just a bit. So I added, “It is a bit more complicated than that. But…”

Her lips curled in a smile. “I see. Perhaps you’ll tell me later?”

“Perhaps.”

She nodded, all seriousness again. “You don’t trust us.”

Stay noncommittal. “It’s hard to trust anyone with too much power. Although.” I thought on my own private situation. “And who’ll actually use it.” Better.

“I wouldn’t let anyone touch you.”

“And your mother?”

Nanacie twirled a strand of reddish hair around her finger. “You’re a pure blood. That’s true, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“A pure blood of a rival Prince. That may sound more dangerous at first, but it actually gives you a certain immunity. Nobody wants to worsen diplomatic relations right now.”

“It’s what a diplomat would say.” At her distressed look, I forced myself to smile. “But you may have a point. I hope.”

She nodded. “You must have questions.”

“I have one in particular. I mean, I have several. But this has been bothering me, and maybe you can answer it. For the rest, maybe you’re forced to lie or keep silent, even if I want to assume I can trust you.”

She chewed her lower lip, no vampire fangs visible. She could do the same hiding trick I could. “So you understand some things. I’ll answer as well as I can.”

“Right. When you… commended that guy’s soul to Arkay. Was that for show, or to hide your actual thoughts, or did you mean that?”

She blinked, looked up at me with big eyes, batted her eyelashes with a smile. “You ask the right questions. What do you think?”

“I think you may have been sincere. And you’re disguising it as fake.”

Her smile widened. “And you may be right. Not that that will leave this room.”

“Eventually it’ll have to, when we’re both out of here. Right?”

She sighed. “Yes.” She sat down on a bench and patted the space beside her.

I sat down as indicated.

“I might as well tell you a few things,” she said. “You’re not the only pure blood here.”

“You, too?”

“No, not me. My mother. I fell very ill when I was young. She made a contract with Molag Bal. Originally I was supposed to be the pure-blooded vampire, to save me, but I absolutely refused and decided I’d commit suicide. It wasn’t just the method; I actually am a follower of Arkay. I didn’t quite manage, but I was unconscious.”

Stories of vampiric origins were always messy. I just listened.

“They found a compromise in the meantime,” she went on. “My mother would be the new pure blood. She would turn me. My soul would be my own to dedicate to whoever I pleased. But I would live among vampires all my life. If I’m away from vampires for too long, I will die. I’m free to seek a cure, but I will also die. So I am only conditionally immortal. The only way to fix the condition is to dedicate myself to Molag Bal of my own free will. Which I will not do.” She smiled a little. “You and the Redguard aren’t the only ones who didn’t take that vow for our society. People just assume I did because I’m one of the founding members.”

“So your mother turned you, and so… she built this whole thing up so you’d be around vampires.”

“Yes. It was supposed to be a society in which civility and virtue reigned, but… You can see what people make of it instead. And perhaps, what we’ve made of it, too.”

I nodded, leaned back on the bench, processed. “If you get cured, how long until you die?”

“A while still. I would continue aging. Perhaps my illness would flare up again.” She sneered. “The other one. Not the one I carry with me now.”

“Mhm.” Of course she’d see it as an illness, things being like that. “And have you considered just letting that happen? You’re obviously not happy. Not that I want you to die; I’m actually getting used to you being there in my life – though I’ve been bad about being in touch, I know.”

“It’s fine. I have. I’ve thought about it. But the truth is, I’m afraid. I don’t want to die.”

“So rather this?”

“Yes.”

We sat in silence while I tried to think.

“So I’ve never turned another person,” I said at last. “Irresponsible at my level of experience. I’m still learning the ropes myself. But you know the ropes. Just different ropes.” I halted. The image had served its purpose. Time to let it rest. “I’d have to have a conversation about this. No promises, no details either. But just in theory. If you got cured, and then got bitten by someone else, with a different Daedric alignment what bloodsucking goes. Would you jump ship?”

Her eyes were fixed on me, and she was perfectly still, tense, then shivering. Then she gave a barely perceptible nod. “Have your conversation,” she said in a thin voice. “I suppose it may be a while?”

“I’m afraid so,” I said, quieter, too. “He’s busy with some nonsense.”

She smiled. “You’re not actually married, are you?”

“I actually am.”

She cocked her head.

I smiled.

She snorted and fell into a more ladylike snicker. “So it’s like that?”

“Yeah.”

“I see. I may be able to trust you. Have your conversation. But I have two conditions.”

I grinned. “He’s right, as soon as you offer people something, they want more.”

She snickered again, then her big eyes turned serious, even with the remnants of her smile still in place. “The first is that you turn me. You bite me. I get your blood. No one else. No other vampire, no Prince. I’ll trust him as far as that, but not further, and your strain is one I _can_ trust. And you are someone I can trust. I don’t want a different strain. And well,” she twirled a strand of hair again, “your strain was presumably made with your well-being in mind. I’d rather have a weaker version of that than something new with whatever innovative ideas a Prince may come up with. The second. I choose whom I worship. My soul is mine to give, as it is now. If I wasn’t free in that, I would be better off with Molag Bal, hard as it is to believe.”

“Makes sense,” I said. “And for the record, I’m free.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“I can worship whoever I want. It’d be weird if that was him. I’ve already signed up for his afterlife, but that’s different.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Well – perhaps there’s hope for me now. But until then, this conversation never happened. And we still have to keep an order on track. And it’s not easy.”

I figured I’d gotten to know her a bit by then. If Nanacie said something wasn’t easy, it was an impossible mess.


	15. Chapter 15

Took me getting home to realise I didn’t have any answer whatsoever about what had actually gone on and why the recently beheaded had been acting so strangely. Beware the cute ladylike ones. Pulled the bat wings right over my eyes. Fucking Bretons.

And I’d have to learn how she did that.

Being home was no fun at all this time. I kept missing Clavicus. I’d occasionally been the sentimental type, no need to deny that, but I was supposed to be older and wiser by then, and instead this time I had it bad. Every part of the little inn room reminded me of the fact that he wasn’t there anymore. And that I wanted him to be there. Awful.

I tried to read, I was normally able to read obsessively and only emerge for basic human or vampiric needs, but not then. The obsession insisted on dwelling on him instead, as obsessions are prone to, they decide what to focus on without your consent. Also awful.

So in the end, the next few days were just lost.

Eventually, I went back to the chapel cause it was something to do.

Nanacie still didn’t look good. By which I mean to say, she always looked good, but she didn’t look freshly fed and healthy. Face still lined, tired and exhausted. Natural. What a situation. Still, as always, she looked happy to see me, and that brightened up the room no matter what.

There weren’t many people there; daytime again. We just talked a while about this and that; generally nothing serious cause I’d decided to let her get away with her hiding act while she thought she needed it. Took every bit of patience I had, but I managed.

Just one thing I asked her when we were alone. Her drained appearance reminded me. “About the conversation that didn’t take place,” I said. “That one still didn’t take place. But before that. Before no conversation took place. We talked about something. So before, you were ready to die rather than be a vampire. Now you’re ready to be a vampire rather than die. I’ve had the theory that vampires have a harder time letting go of life than mortals, and mortals can be awfully clingy with life. But I’ve noticed it with myself, too. I guess it’s been a while? Does it get more?”

She’d been watching me attentively, then relaxed at my questions for some reason. “It has been a while, yes. Not terribly long yet, not like some, but a while. And yes, it does get more. The first few years, I kept being tempted to seek a cure. I only held out because of my mother. She’d gone through all this to save me. It would have been like stabbing her in the back. I wanted to. She’d never asked me. But I also didn’t. So I told myself I’d stay around for long enough to make the sacrifice worth it, and then, once I felt I had paid off my debt, so to speak, I would explain that I needed to get cured and move on. Really she should have just let me die from the beginning. Things always start when people can’t accept someone’s death when they should. But…” She sighed. “Once I should have been ready, by my own somewhat… Well, the logic isn’t sound. I know that. It’s not healthy either. But in any case, once I should have been ready for the step, it was already too late, and I was too afraid. I should have done it a long time ago. It’s weakness, nothing more.” She blew a stray strand of hair out of her face. When it fell back into place, she tried to tuck it back into a hair pin. It returned. She yanked out the disappointing hairpin and aggressively redid that part of her hair. Now it sat in place, despite looking messy.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. “Sorry this is taking a while. I never know when he’ll be around. I can’t always contact him either. Wish I could. Once it’s time though, you know a place to get cured? I’m sorry, now we’re talking about it after all.”

“I know a place,” she said simply. “By the way. You should feed.”

“So should you,” I said without thinking.

She gave me a wan smile. “I probably should, shouldn’t I? I get scruples. After all that mess.”

I sighed. “I get that. I don’t really want to get to the thralls either. Not to mention some of them make me uncomfortable.”

“Saradin hasn’t been coming back for some days,” she said.

“Ah. Makes sense, I guess. Made no sense for him to still be here, the way he talked.”

“We have more attractive women than House Ravenwatch.”

“Ah. Simple as that, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Always is with men. I would almost say good work catching yourself a Daedric Prince; even the least trustworthy of them is probably worth more than the average mortal man.”

“I can’t disagree. I was married twice before this.” I shook my head as a verdict on that fact.

Nanacie nodded gravely. “I used to wonder at first why there were never any female thralls volunteering anywhere, not with us, nor with House Ravenwatch. I think I figured it out. Women are already expected to sacrifice themselves and let themselves be drained of all life, all the time. There’s no novelty to be had. For men it’s a thrill. Well, for the kind that are looking for that.”

“It’s sad how right that sounds.”

She gave a grim smile. Then straightened her posture as if remembering who she was supposed to be. “Educare is still around. He’s alright, for one of them. Has been siding with our take. If you’re thirsty… He should be alright.”

“I’d feel bad,” I said. “After what happened to him.” Reconsidered my words. “You know, I should confess, I used to think what you did there, you and your mother and whoever was in charge of that, I used to think it was disproportionate, and it made me really uneasy. But I guess if it means protecting the weaker and the volunteers… But well, I feel like a hypocrite now.”

“It’s a transition we all have to make. As a young girl in Wayrest, I used to hate the stocks. And the guillotine even more. You have to suffer or see enough suffering to understand vengeance. And beyond vengeance, the simple need to get someone out of the way. Rid the world of them. At least your world. And with vampires, you have a few simple options, and everything else is a gamble. Never underestimate a vampire you didn’t see die in a final manner.”

“What a lesson. Yeah. I’m starting to get it.”

“Good. Your…” She smiled. “Mentor teach you that?”

“Some of it.”

She nodded. “Good. You’ll need those lessons if you want to survive. In any case, your kind of scruples are why I trust you. Educare will be fine. I know you won’t drink too much, and I know you respect limits. He’ll agree.”

I hesitated.

“You must be getting thirsty. Take your sip. Moderation, no?”

I relented.

She was right. Educare was perfectly polite, friendly even, a simple clean exchange with no fuss and nothing strange about it.

When I next returned to the chapel, his corpse was laid out on an altar amidst candles, an arrow still stuck in his chest.


	16. Chapter 16

They were standing around the altar in silence. Liocie was there, a few regulars. Nanacie was plucking a sombre tune on a lute. When she saw me, she paused, looked up at me, then lowered her gaze and continued playing.

I joined the half circle to stand in silence while it lasted. Shot a few half-baked silent prayers to Akatosh, to Arkay for Nanacie’s sake, remembered Clavicus had mentioned Lorkhan a few times in conversation, and he sounded like a decent sort, so I included him, too. Then awkwardly Clavicus himself, though I made sure to mention this wasn’t technically a prayer but simply a way of address and anyway it wouldn’t do to leave him out. And that I missed him. And ended that train of thought before it became entirely inappropriate for a funeral watch.

When Nanacie was done with her lute playing, we all stood in silence some more, and then she stepped up and did a proper Arkay’s rite on Educare, commanding him to Aetherius.

At last, Roland and a few other strong guys wrapped him up and carried him to be buried in the chapel’s little backyard that already held a few graves.

Liocie waited until the funeral business was all finished before she addressed us: “The arrow had a note.” She dug into her robe’s pocket and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment. “It reads: ‘This man killed Renelet. He made his choice. What will yours be?’” She held it up above her head. “What will our choice be indeed? I say it is war. I say it is finding the ones responsible, dragging them from their hiding pits, and watching their heads roll. I say it is to defend our lives, our chapel, our society.”

There was murmured assent.

“Tomorrow,” she went on, “when I see who has come back, I will see who is with us. And who isn’t. Make your decision wisely. We have already lost members. Both vampires and thralls, believe it or not, because evidently, some thralls don’t care for being treated with decency and respect. But that does not mean we can give up on our standards. We can lose people, we have lost people, and we will lose more people. But we’ll get new ones. Since Glenumbra is overrun with toxic vines, the refugees and the generally impoverished have been flooding in. Stormhaven isn’t in the best condition either, one hears. Petty lords and their petty politics. But it’s good for us. These people are fresh blood, and some sympathetic to our kind, thanks to…” Here she allowed herself a sardonic smile. “Thanks to a certain set of novels that imagine life at House Ravenwatch. Some of you may have read them.”

There were grins despite the situation, mine among them.

Liocie’s smile widened. “You know who you are.”

Some laughter.

Smart of her. Unifying us.

As Liocie turned serious again, so did we. “But what we cannot replace is our standards, our way of life, what we are. And we will fight for that. Don’t bother telling me who’s with us now. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll know.”

And we were dismissed. Liocie likes swift dismissals.

Of course I was at the chapel the next day. Punctually at dawn. Couldn’t sleep much anyway.

Liocie was alone and greeted me with a pleased nod. “I’m starting to think my daughter was right about you. In that case, you can go right back home and pack your bag for a voyage West. I want the two of you to petition House Ravenwatch for assistance. We wouldn’t normally petition those decadent nobles, but it’s now values against the lack of them. And we have to stand together in that. We need to find out who killed Educare, and we need them gone. And if there’s a larger problem, and I’m sure there is, we need that problem gone, as well.”

As good a measure as any. “Alright,” I said. “Sounds good. I’m glad something’s happening.”

She sighed. “We don’t know if anything will be happening. It’s anything but sure. So do your best. Here is something else. Something few others know about. You’ve noticed Renelet’s strange behaviour, of course.”

I pursed my lips.

She nodded, taking it as the assent it was. “There is a new kind of madness spreading among our kind. Or perhaps not madness. In any case they lose all reason and sense of self, as far as we can tell, and blindly attack. Our West there have been more of them sighted. It goes as far as them having a name for them; Bloodfiends they call them. A bit dramatic, but…”

“Bretons,” I said. I needed to learn to shut up.

Liocie gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes, indeed. Renelet was infected. He was of old blood, there was barely a need for him to be here, except for companionship, and so it took a while to take hold of him. He thought he could fight it. In the end, he couldn’t and did what he did.”

“So it was never about Educare at all.”

“It wasn’t. He was just unlucky. Renelet regained his senses afterwards, but we decided it would likely happen again. And then more and more often. He needed to die. The only way for this to work was a public execution for his wrongdoing. Or so we thought.” She sighed. “In the end, this worked as badly as if we’d quietly done away with him and buried him in a cabbage field to be discovered later.”

I nodded slowly. “Anyone else have it, you think?”

“Not yet, if we’re lucky. You, Nanacie, and I will have less to worry about than those of more diluted blood. She’s told you about our background.”

“She… yes.”

“Good; that makes this easy. I don’t dare to send the weak-blooded ones over there. You’re not much of a diplomat, but you’ve got a way of inspiriting trust, and that can’t hurt. Let Nanacie do most of the talking anyway. And watch over her. And…” She pressed her lips together in a thin line. “Despite our different masters, I propose a coalition. Neither of them is ultimately interested in mindless beasts for followers.”

I nodded. “I can’t form coalitions on his behalf, and, well, ‘master’ is a bit much, but I’ll work with you. I don’t want this either; this is nonsense.”

Liocie arched an eyebrow, then settled for the agreement.

After some more planning, Nanacie joined us, looking very different. Fancy dress, heavy layers of make-up, hair set in fluffy waves. Her fatigue still showed despite all the effort, but the attention sure went elsewhere at first.

“I’m underdressed,” I noted.

She smiled. “Let them think it’s expensive to rob us and that authorities will care. I can helo you if you want.”

“If I’m supposed to look like that, yeah, I’ll need help.”

Her smile widened. “Not a problem.”

“That much make-up though? Really?”

“You don’t need as much,” she said.

I grinned. “Nice of you to say, but I’m… No, well, I _look_ older than you anyway. If anyone needs it…”

Nanacie shook her head, letting her curls sway with the motion. “You look fine, on your own. This is theatrical make-up. Meant to be seen from far away. And then for people not to come too close, because we’re too expensive to bother. But if you prefer subtlety, we can do that, too.”

I sighed. “No, no, I don’t particularly want to be attacked either. I’ll go along with it, but you’ll have to do it, or show me or something. Does this also repel bloodfiends?”

“Wouldn’t that be convenient? Let’s put it to the test! Come with me; we’ll find you a travel dress, and I’ll paint you.”

As I followed her, I realised she had not shown the least bit of surprise at my presence and willingness to come along. Was it flattering for her trust, or unflattering for my apparent loyalty one could just take for granted and plan in without consultation? I couldn’t decide.


	17. Chapter 17

I wasn’t sure about the transformation my friend put me through, especially that light paste to cover up the skin tone. I protested its discomfort, I doubted its usefulness, I declared it’d get everywhere, but it was no use.

“You’ll have to make it _not_ get everywhere,” Nanacie said and proceeded.

The colours. I’d put on some colour here and there in the past, but this was something else. Between my face and the borrowed dress and the add-ons like ribbons and gems, I looked like a particularly garish flower patch. But that, too, was intended as such.

“We should match,” Nanacie said, and when Nanacie says ‘should’, it means the topic is non-negotiable. “And anyway, I’m already using a more subtle approach with you, as I promised.”

I was stunned into silence for a moment. Then I said, “I’m not convinced.”

“You only got a thin layer of everything.”

“I did?”

“I won’t take mine off to show you. It took too much work for that. But trust me.”

“But you don’t even need that!”

She shook her head, and then her artificial curls hung over her features so I couldn’t see. “That depends on the purpose. The purpose here is not the obvious one.”

“Well, if the purpose is to scare the bloodfiends, or make them convinced they’ll never get through all that stuff to hit a vein…”

Brief laughter from her, face still hidden. Laughter over. “But seriously. Perhaps you still find me pretty, but that doesn’t help us in the slightest out there.”

“Still?”

She shook her head again. “And the dress you’re wearing.” She looked up, and now that I could see her face properly again, there was a mischievous smile on it. “It was a gift from an aunt. Thankfully you and I are of similar size, so you can wear it, but it never suited me, and so it stayed in the trunk all this time.”

“What’s with the dress?” I took her bait. “Except for the obvious?”

“What is the obvious?” she took my bait.

“The… _escorts_ in the Arena District don’t look like this. Aren’t you supposed to be a priestess?” I grinned at her to soften the message a bit.

“Different role. But please. This is modest. Too modest. In Wayrest one would call it frumpy. Out here in the Rivenspire wilderness, it’s a different matter, I suppose.”

I snorted.

“But the material is of a higher class than what anyone here is used to. We’re going straight to a noble court. Of which for some reason not yet everyone knows it’s vampiric in nature. Perhaps the locals are just blind overall. That means we’d better look the part.”

I sighed and relented. “Well, thanks for giving me the ‘modest’ dress.”

“See? You have to see the positive.”

“I can’t go home like this and fetch my things.”

“All accounted for. We have everything you’ll need. And we can send over a courier to pay for your rent in advance for a while, saying a sudden matter has come up. Family perhaps?”

“Family is always good. I’ve used that one whenever I couldn’t think of anything better. Always works as long as you don’t overdo it.”

She cocked her head. “Do you still have a family, actually? A real one, not an alibi family?”

“Yeah, semi-estranged. We… sort of care for each other. A few of them anyway. Haven’t seen them in years. They don’t know I’m a vampire, and we want to keep it that way. That’s how… well, the older ones get to stay alive.”

“Ah. Always practical, the Colovians. I should learn from that. Well, perhaps I am.”

“Want to talk about it?”

She gave a little frown and shook her head and changed the topic to my hair. Apparently, it was an issue.


	18. Chapter 18

Travelling in Rivenspire is always miserable. It’s always overcast, it’s always raining, there is always a pressure in the air to constrict your head and your breath and bring on pain that won’t be culled no matter how.

Travelling in Rivenspire while dressed up in ridiculous fancy stuff and with colour plastered on your face is even more miserable.

Nanacie insisted on keeping up appearances on the road, and so there was dining with a regularity I hadn’t been used to anymore, but after Clavicus’s warning was happy to go along with, and nights were spent in inns properly sleeping. That part I was more familiar with; my daily rhythm tended towards similar hours to when I was a shop clerk back in Cyrodiil. Since I can stand the sun, I want to make use of it. Of course, speaking of ‘the sun’ in Rivenspire is a bit of an exaggeration. ‘Something bright behind the mists to make you see more than at night time’ is more like it on most days. The few days with clear skies are stunning, as if trying to make up for it. But you need some patience until you get one.

The closer we got to our destination, the more we saw soldiers, mercenaries, destruction, suffering, and the more we had to evade bloodfiends at night. By now everyone will have heard of them, the way they’re spreading, so I don’t need to describe them here.

Evade them we did, but it wasn’t always easy.

And in all that mess, you had to still find people you could put to sleep so you could feed. Meant people who hadn’t been made far too jumpy by circumstance. Nanacie wanted us to split up for feeding so we didn’t give ourselves away, and since single targets were more easily overcome than trying to find a group. Sometimes we were out for hours trying to find prey. I was glad to be able to go for a long time without feeding, but it did make me feel weaker when I really didn’t need it amidst all these hardships and dangers. And from the looks of her, Nanacie was faring no better. We didn’t get into it; no need to focus on it when you can’t change it anyway.

When she was in a good mood, she’d sing or recite epics she’d learned, which was a very different image than she’d presented at the chapel, out of necessity, no doubt. The hints had always been there, but she’d had to fence them in in that society.

When we were staying at inns, and the local bard was approachable, she’d sometimes ask to borrow their lute, and play a few tunes.

Eventually, one evening over ale in our room, I asked her about it.

“When I was young, I wanted to become an actress,” she said. “My parents quickly disabused me of that idea, and convinced me that was not a way to earn a living, or respect, or anything but scorn and trouble really. Sadly, I still think they were right about that. As a compromise, I took lute lessons, and read a lot. I said, as a private hobby. And then I fell ill. Either way, I would not have managed. I could have died, and not become an actress, or I could have lived, like I did, and still not have become an actress, because as a vampire amidst all these people, always crammed together, and then in the public eye… It would have been a recipe for disaster, and only a matter of time for it to go wrong. Sometimes now I wonder…”

“A bard?” I asked.

She nodded. “More solitary. I could wander, play alone for people, and disappear when it was time. Solitude has a bard college, and I am just so tired of High Rock…” She looked around as if anyone could hear, no matter if they were all far away. Vampirism does that to you. You’re always looking around for something.

“That sounds nice, you know,” I said. “My eventual goal is Cyrodiil again, but I’ve been told that’ll be a long time. Both for my qualification – or lack of it – to be around my peers there… And the war going on. But eventually. Till then, I see myself moving around a lot. Solitude, huh.”

She smiled. “Perhaps someday.”

“Less for the bard business for me,” I added.

“What were you before this? I never asked.”

“An alchemist’s shop clerk. Very uninteresting.”

“Is it?” She leaned closer. “I find alchemy interesting… a bit. Not enough to become an alchemist myself. It doesn’t make enough sense to me in my head. But what about you? You could look into that.”

“I could, couldn’t I?” I fell silent. “Somehow I’d never thought of that. We had no money for a full education like that. Magical things. Taking forever. And then I wanted to live in the city, and for that, you need to earn steady money, not… you know. And then, the city’s magical learning institutions were notoriously bad, and kept getting worse. This sounds like a lot of excuses now.”

She shook her head. “We can’t always do what we might perhaps like under different circumstances. If you want to live a long life, perhaps even an endless one, the better you can accept life’s realities, the better for you. Or you will go crazy. So…” Her voice drifted off.

“So?”

“So…” She inhaled. Shook her head. “We’re on a dangerous mission. We get by so far, but it may not end well. Perhaps, this’ll be it, despite all. So I’ll indulge a bit of the… The not wanting to accept life’s realities, just for a while. And I’ll see where it goes. If it all goes well, and responsibility beckons again, that’s early enough to pick it up again, and to accept again.” Her eyes lit up with a glint of mischief. “But for right now, why don’t we say, perhaps if it goes well, let’s go to Skyrim for some years. And learn something interesting. What do you say?”

“I’ve never considered Skyrim. But you know…” I fell silent. Thought about it. “There is that thing they say. Or rather, that someone in particular said. You’re never as safe as among those who wouldn’t accept you if they knew what you are. Nords aren’t fond of the undead unless it’s their own draugr, and don’t ask me how that goes together. Nords aren’t known for logic. But that might work for a while, no? Let’s do it.”

We toasted to it with cheap ale, which is as close to an oath as you can get without getting draconic or bloody about it and cursing yourself in case of failure. You learn about those things when you get with a Prince of Deals.


	19. Chapter 19

The rest of the journey was as eventless as it was unpleasant. More and more bloodfiends, people increasingly scared of vampires and making feeding a challenge, except for the occasional clueless romantic who’d read those ridiculous books – although word was they’d since been banned by all authorities and those claiming the title of authority for themselves. Good for the people, pity for us. There went one easy food source, slowly drying up to a trickle in diseased sand.

On top of that, refugees from the rest of High Rock everywhere – you know the usually nicer regions with their noses up in the air about their civilisation and culture are in a bad state when all their people come flooding into Rivenspire of all places.

But at last we arrived at Castle Ravenwatch. Almost, that is. The path up was blocked by a line of obviously vampiric protesters holding up signs: “Stop the exploitation”, “Our blood is our own”, and most often: “Stop being the prey – be the predator!”

Nanacie and I turned towards each other.

“Do you understand what they actually want?” I asked.

She frowned. “I would like to say so. But the only possible way these things go together… Who would drink from a vampire?”

“Daedric Princes,” I muttered. “Didn’t just say that.”

Nanacie blinked and snickered. “I see. Well, I doubt that is the issue here. But…” She went serious. “Stop being the prey…”

One of the protesters in the front line saw her thoughtful expression and latched onto it like the self-proclaimed predator he was. He fumbled in his large bag and thrust pamphlets into each of our hands. “You’re not from here, are you? If you’re interested in our cause, read this! And let me warn you! This house is no place for ladies to go to. It’s nothing but exploitation.”

We read the pamphlets since he would likely not accept anything else.

There it was again: “Stop being the prey – be the predator!”

Reading more, we figured it out. They were former thralls who’d turned vampire and were now protesting vampires keeping thralls as exploitation. And encouraging said thralls to become vampires themselves, presumably out of a ‘That’ll show them’ sort of notion.

We looked at each other.

Another vampire pushed through from the back and looked us over. “If you’re going up there to feed, you’re not getting past us.”

Nanacie gave the best indignant frown I’d seen in a long time if not ever, stared him down, and said, “Do we _look_ like vampires to you?”

Our fellow vampire halted his movements and took a closer look at us. “You don’t,” he mumbled. “You’ve got to understand, though, high-born ladies such as yourselves wouldn’t be going there as thralls, would you? That’s for the common folk who are starving. Got to watch out that the vampire lords and ladies up there aren’t starving themselves, right? Well, no more of that.” Having talked himself back into a rage, he stopped again. “’scuse me. Then what is your business there? Unless you’ve read those shitty books, excuse my language, and –“

I knew to leave the talking to Nanacie. She was in her role.

Nanacie sneered. “We are here on _business_. Between _cities_. We don’t care about some petty interracial squabbling and about who eats whom in this barbaric place.”

This gave our opponent pause again.

But in his stead, more vampires were starting to pay attention and to circle around us, clearly not in the best mood.

I was starting to get fidgety, when we heard a voice behind the protesters, and then a tall new vampire pushed through, albeit rather politely. Altmer, it seemed.

“Excuse me,” he said, “do excuse me. Now, your business with House Ravenwatch – be that as it may. But please leave these ladies in peace. I’m sure they’re entirely uninvolved with anything that bothers you about us.”

Somehow the crowd calmed down again and eventually cleared a path to let us through.

“Thank you,” I said.

Nanacie didn’t say anything. Nanacie looked at him with attentive eyes.

“Come, I’ll bring you to the Castle,” said the newcomer.

So we followed.

Once out of hearing range, we introduced ourselves. Simply, no vampire business for us. Nanacie Ancel from Wayrest. Melima Aemilia from an unimportant small town and then the Imperial City; eventually washed ashore in Rivenspire in anticipation of the turmoil back home.

Our presumed host was more forthcoming. “I am Fennorian of House Ravenwatch. As you have doubtlessly had no choice but to hear, we are vampires. Although I would like to think we are somewhat better than what they like to paint us as. I’m a rather recent arrival. May I ask what brings you here?”

At last, Nanacie spoke up. “It’s nice to meet you. We are here… in search of aid, and an investigation.”

Fennorian’s eyes lit up. “Do go on.”

So she went on. “There has been trouble in the east. And we would like it looked at and removed. And as it is said that nobility should be there for its people…”

He smiled, and his expression said that it wouldn’t have needed the appeal to nobility’s honour; she had him at ‘investigation’.

“I will gladly help,” he said, then corrected himself: “ _We_ will gladly help. Let’s discuss it over dinner. We do have food for… people not like us.”

Nanacie gave him a graceful smile. “Thank you; that is much appreciated.”

Now this act was getting a bit much, I decided, and said, “Excuse us for just a moment.”

Fennorian was polite enough to wait and let us step aside.

I muttered to her, “I know, an act’s an act, and security and all that, but we’re among vampires now, and the ones that were your inspiration, too. Don’t you think we can drop the act now?”

She smiled at me. “You’re welcome to drop it if you like.” And re-joined Fennorian.

So I followed, puzzled. Said, at last, “Say… Would you also have food for people more like yourselves? Or is that only for residents?”

Fennorian stopped again, surprise written all over his face. He mustered my face, trying to discern something. “Curious… I can normally tell. Are you…” He frowned, seemingly frustrated. Mustered Nanacie, but only briefly, then returned to me. “I’m sorry, I can’t tell. May I ask what your secret is?”

I smiled. “Clavicus Vile. New strand, no Molag Bal involvement. Pure blood. I’m supposed to blend in.”

His eyes widened, and then he nodded. “Ah, that would explain it. Cyrodilic vampires… I should have guessed from the beginning. But you two…” He shook his head. “So you are saying that you are different even from regular Cyrodilic strands? How very interesting. But excuse me, I’m being too curious. Of course there are refreshments for our guests of all kind.” He smiled.

And with that settled, we went on toward the Castle.


	20. Chapter 20

House Ravenwatch, while eccentric in their habits, were nothing if not hospitable.

We got welcomed by a somewhat colourful multiracial group that made me wonder if this was an Aldmeri Dominion offshoot rather than a High Rock noble house.

They gave us separate guest rooms on the same floor, told us to access their thralls whenever we felt the need to feed, as long as we kept the usual good manners. I suppose this was made easier by me telling them we were from the Chapel of Arkay’s Mercy, which they had, of course, heard of. Fennorian expressed puzzlement about there being Cyrodilic vampires in the Chapel, and said they had had old or inaccurate information. No doubt a terrible state of things for him to discover.

Nanacie and I agreed that we wanted to keep up our habits of regular-people food regardless of our situation, and I mentioned the advice given by Clavicus about not losing the habit. If it did not inopportune our hosts too much. If it did, they didn’t say so, and their Khajiit said all the fresh things went badly so fast, it was good that somebody ate them.

Now that we were in safety, and among vampires, I asked Nanacie for permission to take off the paint and wear something normal.

She smiled at me and granted permission.

What a relief that was. A shirt that covered enough skin in a draughty castle, and sensible trousers. Nothing like it.

We took our while getting comfortable each on our own, and when we met back up in the salon, Nanacie had changed into a more practical casual dress, as well, but the paint, rather than being removed, had been replaced by a new style of paint. More muted colours, but still the same amount of layers to it.

There are only so many instances in which you can silence your vague suspicions with completely reasonable explanations. This was the moment I ceased doing so. But I waited it out. Not the moment for it.

So we explained our predicament to our gracious hosts.

Count Verandis was a busy man and decided that we were Fennorian’s guests and project, and the rest of them would offer help if needed, but were otherwise trying to deal with the very much advanced bloodfiend crisis, and there was no suitable help in sight, and so we should expect to manage most of it between the three of us.

“Well,” I said, “we got the one who likes investigations, right? Couldn’t be better for us.”

Fennorian looked pleased, and then was apparently looking for words. Eventually he found them: “I’m afraid there won’t be much of an investigation necessary. We already know who is behind these thrall incidents. It is the same group protesting down there, and they are, well, they are loud enough in their claims.” He gave us a troubled frown. “They come from your ‘chapel’. They are led by a Saradin at-Gidal. They used an early version of the disease you see everywhere to cause unrest in your group, and have been recruiting members in both of our groups for their… cause.”

It was hard to tell under her layer of paint, but I was rather sure Nanacie turned pale. What needed no guessing was her tensing up and the look of cold anger entering her eyes. “I see,” she said. “I should not be surprised. The only thing…” She bit her lip in thought. “We only just got here, and they have so many. And their ‘leader’ doesn’t even feel the need to join the protesters.”

I hummed my agreement. “How did they organise this so quickly?”

“Oh,” Fennorian said, “this wasn’t quick at all. This has been going on for months. Shortly after I joined.”

Nanacie and I looked at each other.

“So,” I said, “not a sudden sulking measure, but planned well in advance.”

Nanacie straightened her shoulders. “Thank you, Fennorian,” she said, voice still cold. “Your help has been most…” She blinked a few times and finally allowed herself a small smile. “Helpful. I should think before I talk.”

He smiled back at her, and was looking at her a little longer than absolutely necessary.

Well, that meant for my friend’s sake I couldn’t just let us leave. “We still don’t have a solution,” I said. “So I suppose we can’t expect an army or anything of that sort, and after all they’re out there protesting almost on your doorstep. Means you can’t do anything. Suppose the bloodfiends are the bigger problem?”

Fennorian sighed. “They are. As long as our people are fed, we have to put the politics aside.” His sneer at the word showed what he thought about ‘politics’.

Nanacie shot me an ironic smile and settled back into her chair. “I see. Well, then we will need help from elsewhere, won’t we? We can’t let our people go unavenged, and I don’t care what they say about revenge cycles. With predators, one either sets the precedent that one is not to be messed with, or one gets hunted down and eaten eventually. At least their leader has to go.”

Fennorian cocked his head. “You’re more… practically minded than you try to appear, aren’t you? If you’ll allow me to say so, you would fit in well here.”

“I’m not a noble,” she said, but she looked pleased nevertheless.

“Oh, neither are most of us. We only got adopted into the house. It is a matter of ethics, and well, I suppose, being a vampire helps, too.”

“Ah well, then we have the problem here,” said Nanacie. And after a pause, with a brilliant smile, “I’m terribly lacking in ethics.”

Fennorian broke out laughing. “Somehow I don’t believe that. You do what you have to; that is not the same.” Then he muttered, “At least I would like to believe so.”

“She does, too,” I said. “Do what’s necessary. I’m the squeamish one. That said: I don’t know about you all, but where I come from, we settle things about individual targets that absolutely have to go in a different manner.”

They both looked at me, curiosity written all over their faces.

Nanacie smiled. “Civil war? Daedric summoning? Assassinating another Emperor?”

I grinned. “No, that’s for the nobility again. Though you got closer with the last one. ‘Emperor’ is a bit much of a title for a petty revolutionary, though, isn’t it?”

She folded her hands with a serene expression. “That line of thought has a certain charm. Cut off the head, and…”

“I know,” I said, “you Bretons just love cutting off heads.”

“Can’t deny it. It’s a terrible habit. But this time, if it’s the right head…”

Fennorian had been listening to us with mixed expressions, at least one of them amusement. “So… Only to get this right… Are you suggesting… An assassination?”

“Brotherhood,” I said. “We just need the implements. And the funds, of course. They’re not cheap.”

“Have you ever done that?” he asked.

“No, no, had no reason to. And on my own I wouldn’t have the nerves.”

Nanacie tapped her fingertips against the table’s edge. Then she looked up at us. “I have the nerves. And at least most of the funds. I’ve been saving up. And I want to leave my mother with a functioning society.”

I looked at her.

“I’m not planning on staying,” she said. “I want to go to Skyrim. Try my luck with the Bard College.”

“You should,” I said and meant it.

She nodded. “As for the implements…

Fennorian’s expression was mixed again. It was that a lot, especially with her around. I felt a bit sorry for him then. Still, he caught himself, and said, “Well, funds would not be a problem as we would also gain from this problem being solved. And as for the implements, this is a vampiric house dedicated to Molag Bal. Some things aren’t as difficult to procure as one might think in a different kind of household.”


	21. Chapter 21

I know you were looking forward to this part and got your note taking supplies ready. Am I right? But I’ll have to disappoint you. There are things you don’t detail for public consumption.

So it will just be this: After getting Count Verandis’s agreement (“Ah, well, I am not normally a friend of such measures, but in desperate times, if at least one problem can be solved… Please use the shed in the backyard, and I have seen nothing and know nothing.”), Nanacie performed the Dark Sacrament, with Fennorian and me present.

Then we waited, and the two of us settled into the household for the time being. Fennorian taught both of us some alchemy, and otherwise spent a lot of time with Nanacie, while I raided their library. Not a bad one. Comes with having enough time to collect, I suppose.

One evening, when we were alone, I told Nanacie, “You can stop, by the way.” I pointed at her face.

She frowned. “Stop…”

“So when did you get cured?”

She let out a breathy laugh that sounded almost of relief. Then she turned serious. “After the execution. I didn’t want anyone to know. I had enough. But I decided, if you found out, I wouldn’t mind.”

“So you’ve been subtle but dropping hints, and I was too dense, or too busy trying to explain them away to myself.”

She smiled. “Well. You caught on. One issue is that my body seems to catch up on the aging. Perhaps as a result of the curse.”

“Wasn’t that supposed to be broken once you’re cured, you’re just mortal now? I thought that was the point.”

“I thought so, too, but it’s not… It’s not gone.”

I looked at her with narrowed eyes. Trying to guess. But it was no use. “Take off that paint and let me actually see.”

She fidgeted, clenched her fists, regarded them and unclenched them again, then said, “Alright.” And got to work.

When she finally turned to me, I saw my pretty friend with a few fine lines in her face, and couldn’t help laughing.

She frowned at me. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to rein in my laughter. “Look…” I couldn’t help myself and doubled over laughing once more. Some deep breaths later, I was able to continue: “You’ve been a vampire for a while, haven’t you?”

Her voice was like a sulking girl’s when she said, “So what if I have?”

“You’re really not used to the slightest bit of aging anymore, are you? I might not even have noticed that! That first day, when I came back and before you got the war paint ready, I just thought you were exhausted and weren’t feeding enough. And now it’s barely different. You’re _fine_. I mean, you’re more than fine, you’re so pretty I’m envious, but you should know that.”

Her eyes lit up, and she broke into a sincere-enough-looking smile. “Really?”

I sighed. “ _Really_. Nanacie. Stop worrying.”

She bit her lip. “I can’t stop worrying. My mother will…” She shook her head. “But I can’t pay any heed to that anymore. But also…” She looked to the side. And down.

“You like that vampire?”

“I do.”

“You should let him know. He already looked a bit like a kicked puppy when you said you’re going to Skyrim.”

She nodded. “I know.”

I wondered if now was a good time to offer to turn her as agreed upon before. I still hadn’t been able to talk to Clavicus after all. Well, I could at least bring it up; after all we had talked about the possibility, and it had to be on her mind, too. “So about what we talked about another time. Are you actually done with being a vampire overall, or would you still like to…”

“I wish I knew.” She turned around to the mirror and scrutinised herself. “Are you absolutely sure I’m alright?”

“Nanacie.”

She turned back with a smile. “I can take that as a yes?”

I grinned. “You can. No more worrying.”

She gave a brisk nod and resumed her answer. “I wish I knew. At the moment, I’m not sure what I want. Suddenly, there are options.”

“Right,” I said. “You do what you want. First, you find out what you actually want. But you should let Fennorian know sometime. I know you’re not a fan of telling people things, but you should give him a chance to get used to the different thoughts, too. I think right now, he thinks you’re a Cyrodilic vampire. Now it makes sense. His reaction to you. He didn’t sense anything from you cause there was nothing there. Fuck, I’m dense.”

She gave a nervous laugh. “I should, shouldn’t I? And… don’t feel too bad. You sensed something was off?”

“Something. But…”

“Theatrical make-up, see? It distracts the predator from its purpose, and confuses straightforward thinking.”

“I’d feel bad, but you’ve been confusing the straightforward thinking of a hobby investigator, so maybe it’s alright. Though I suspect that’s more a different kind of confusion in his case.”

She snickered. “Alright, you’ve made your point clear. Just not tonight. Tonight I’m…” She looked at herself in the mirror again with a frown. Straightened the frown. Picked at the fine laugh lines next to her eyes.

“They’re pretty,” I said. “Keep them.”

She frowned and turned to me again. “Really?”

“Really.”

She thought about it for a while. “Alright then.”


	22. Chapter 22

Nanacie actually made good on her word, and they talked, and consequently I saw less of them in the following weeks. Got a lot of reading done. Excellent library that was.

One day over mixed dinner, Gwendis, their Wood Elf, came rushing in through the front door, panting and ragged-looking, with her shirt sleeves torn and branches tangled into her clothes. She locked the door behind her with everything there was, and the magically gifted house members added their own.

We didn’t have to tell her to explain to us what was going on; she did that on her own.

“They’re attacking the protesters down there, and they thought I was one, just cause I’m a vampire!”

Verandis steepled his fingers. “That’s what it’s come to. Now, who is attacking them?”

“Soldiers! Or guards! Or… something! House Tamrith!”

Verandis clicked his tongue. “I was hoping we could do without their interference. That’s why I allowed… measures to take place. But it seems they were too late. What do they want?”

“No more vampires of course! But there were more, they looked like vampires, really tall, and I don’t know what they wanted! At first I thought they were bloodfiends, but… They were different.”

Verandis looked to our group. “Well, this spells trouble. Can I ask you to investigate?”

We crept up on the scene, and there they all were. The protesters now huddled into a corner like scared chickens, the militaristic-looking types with a banner that I’d learned in my preparation for this venture belonged to House Tamrith, a few regular bloodfiends, and a few not so regular tall ones with a strange aura.

“Doesn’t make much sense, does it?” I whispered.

Nanacie and Fennorian agreed. We stayed silent again and watched the scene some more. House Tamrith was winning against the protesters, and against the bloodfiends alike, but the novelty bloodfiends were a different story and not so easily dispatched and subdued.

We made sure to stay hidden in our patch of shrubbery with a few ruin pieces for additional fortification.

Suddenly, there was a new influx of bloodfiends from the hills, and the battle field became more even – except for the protesters, who, one by one, breathed their last. So did most of the novelty bloodfiends. Superior to House Tamrith’s armed forces as they may have been, for some reason, they were very much unwelcome to the regular bloodfiends, who swarmed upon them with an unprecedented hatred and bloodlust. So something so anathema to them they felt it in their instincts somehow. Not a reassuring prospect.

“We should leave,” said Fennorian, and as Nanacie and I wholeheartedly agreed, we turned to go.

And then there was one of the novelty ones staring at us. Flaring eyes. Full madness, no sense, you couldn’t even call that instinct anymore. This was something different. Tall Nord. He fixed us with his gaze.

A shorter masked and hooded figure appeared next to him. Female, Breton perhaps, judging by the accent. “These? These are just vampires. Normal ones. Noble weaklings too. We don’t have time for this.”

The vampiric creature growled at us.

“Come, come now. We have to go. Bigger fish to fry.”

But her pet creature seemed determined that we were exactly the fish he wanted to fry at that moment. He growled again, longer now.

His handler sighed. “Oh fine. You want practice? I suppose we could see what happens when you try to turn one of those useless nobles. Maybe they’ll actually be good in a fight.”

Turn? This sounded bad. Turning vampires? Into what? Something like him? In that case, if it took vampires, then Nanacie was safe, but Fennorian and I very much weren’t. Unless it was a specific kind of formula that presumed a Molag Bal type classical vampire for the region. In which case I might have been safe, or might not.

While the vampire handler was thinking, Nanacie whipped out an amulet of Arkay and muttered a prayer and what sounded like the beginnings of an incantation.

“Oh come on,” I said. “Do you ever give the full version of a story, ever?”

Nanacie produced a full glaring Arkay’s warding sigil in the air above us. “And so by the light and power of Arkay, I ask for the cure from this evil for…” She raised her eyebrows, looked at each of us in turn. “Both of you?”

I heard steps behind us. Bad idea to turn around, but this could only be bad. And it would mean little time.

The vampire handler let out a growl of her own and started to speak.

I made the same stupid snap decision I’d made a few times already, without any sensible grounds to base it on: To trust Clavicus. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “Cure him.”

Nanacie hesitated only for a split second and then held the warding symbol over Fennorian, called out his name, and let the magic flood down upon him.

The novelty vampire, apparently blessed with his own set of good instincts, apparently decided which was a lost cause and which wasn’t, and stalked towards me with another growl. Showed his unnaturally long fangs. Unnaturally long for a vampire, that was. Too late to do anything, or maybe it wasn’t fatalism but panic, but in any case, I stayed rooted to the spot.

“Clavicus,” I whispered under my breath, “I could use some help right now.”

And then forked lightning struck our two opponents and returned them to ashes.

“What’s two more?” came a cheerful female voice from behind us. “Wouldn’t do not to get paid. Take them as an extra. I’ve been taking care of plenty of extras besides; I’ve never hunted vampires before, got a bit too into it. But I reckon that’s alright with you?”

We turned around.

There stood a tall Dark Elf, masked, in tight armour and a dramatic cape, which fit the region and the mood, but not what I supposed was her occupation.

“Would you be…”

She pulled down the mask and pushed back the hood, revealing long hair and a grin. “Tedare Nethalen at your service. Gold Coast pest dispatchment business.” She turned towards Nanacie. “You’re the one that performed the Sacrament, aren’t you?”

Nanacie was shaking, perhaps from exhaustion from the spell, perhaps from the situation catching up to her. “I am. Nanacie Ancel. It’s a pleasure. Do you have good news? Other than our rescue, for which I thank you very much, and so do we all.”

Fennorian still looked shaken as well, no wonder. “Yes,” he brought out, “thank you very much. I… need to gather myself. But first, your payment will be in the Castle… Let me just…” He bent down to rummage through the charred remains of our would-be-turners and stowed several items into a satchel at his belt. “For later,” he said. “This will need investigating.”

“You’re welcome, and I do have good news,” Tedare said. “Saradin at-Gidal is dead. Silver sword, clean beheading, and then his headquarters burned to the ground. Tragic accident. And while I was at it, I took out some more of them. And then House Tamrith got a hint and took care of the rest. Figured you were nice people and could use some help around here. That and I’ve acquired a taste for meddling with local politics. Makes you feel like you’re actually doing something meaningful with your life, you know? Something that’ll be remembered. Change history. More than some spectacular kills will be remembered, because you know, there’s so much vanity in that.”

I snickered. “Well, you did us all and a lot of people a great favour or two, so thank you. Not sure this region can be salvaged, but maybe this got it a bit closer to that.”

“Right?” Tedare said. “That’s what I thought.”

“Ladies,” Fennorian interfered, his voice a bit steadier now. “We should really go to the castle before someone else notices our presence.”

“Or cares about it,” I said. “Yeah. Let’s go.”


	23. Chapter 23

There was a lot to talk about. Not all of which involved me.

House Ravenwatch had to be informed about what was going on out there.

Fennorian had to talk to Verandis about his change in condition.

Nanacie and Fennorian had to talk about what they wanted to do now. It was just assumed I could turn both of them if asked to do so, and I didn’t correct that conception cause I figured I could and I would if they wanted.

Fennorian analysed the remnants he had collected from the corpses and could not yet decide what to make of the kind of vampirism we’d seen there, but he was sure at least about the novelty bloodfiend hailing from Western Skyrim. Cultural trinkets, plant ashes, coins and so on.

Tedare, after getting her due payment with a generous extra for the additional help, was endlessly fascinated with the castle and the conditions, and since we were both the odd ones out now, and got along well, we talked a lot, got to know each other, talked about the areas of Cyrodiil we lived in. Apparently, the Gold Coast was still inhabitable, and their local Brotherhood set had just made it a lot less corrupt by taking out the right people in an amusing chain of assassination orders.

As it turned out, we were talking to their local Silencer, freshly baked.

She also asked about regional specialties to bring home, because it was a thing she and her partner both liked to do. “And no blood, please, no offence.”

“Well,” I said, “as a vampire, my sense of taste is diminished, so I only taste the rather strong stuff; I don’t know if you want to rely on me for that.”

“That’s perfect!” she beamed, and proceeded to tell me about some unusual culinary adventures that I would have to try sometime.

In the end we set her up with a box of spicy smoked meat and smoked apple filled pastries that Castle Ravenwatch’s kitchen makes for fresh vampires who still want to taste regular food once in a while. The pastry dough was a dark reddish-brown from the baked-in blood; the cook assured us there was a beef version and she would make that for the mortals, and really, that one was better, too, and those vampires should remember not everything was about necessity after all, taste mattered, did we know?

Tedare was delighted and said this was exactly the right thing.

At last, a conference was called. Count Verandis spoke first, with a pessimistic outlook:

“As Fennorian assured us, these… How do you call them? Novelty bloodfiends. Most likely hail from Western Skyrim. They can, if the word of their companion is to be believed, turn vampires, specifically, into something like themselves. They are highly dangerous, and regular bloodfiends as we know them here, despise them instinctually. As for the regular bloodfiends, there are more and more of them. And no stopping in sight. I have had plans over time on how to stop this crisis, but we are lacking in suitable help or the right ingredients for every idea. In addition, now House Tamrith is mobilising against all vampires regardless of intent, it seems. We may have to adjust to the idea of Castle Ravenwatch, and indeed all of Rivenspire, being lost eventually.”

The round was silent.

He went on. “Fennorian and Nanacie have decided to go to Solitude together.” He gave a little smile. “Nanacie will pursue her studies, and Fennorian will be looking into the crisis from his new point of view. We have also invited Nanacie’s mother Liocie over, for a conversation with her daughter, and to extend an invitation to join our House, as I believe our two groups have fended each for themselves for long enough, and it is time for the remainder of us to join forces.”

He paused and looked to Nanacie.

She nodded. “Melima, if we call on you to ask to turn us after all, will you still do it?”

“I’ll do it, yeah,” I said. “I don’t know where I’ll be, though.”

Verandis took over again: “I would like to ask you to stay with us for the time being, as well, and help us deal with the local crisis. You are free to leave whenever you wish. And we can stay in touch and forward any communication if necessary.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “I like it here. And your library. Fantastic.”

He laughed. “You are welcome to it anytime. And, well, your patron is welcome here, too. We know about that.”

“That’s much appreciated.”

Tedare snapped her fingers. “Gold Coast.”

I looked at her.

“When you’re done here. Come to the Gold Coast. We’ll find you a place to stay. Back in Cyrodiil, but a usable part of it? Shady enough company for a vampire but not too shady? Oh, I also know a pair of Telvanni wizards there; they do some of the healing for us, and sometimes we ask one of them for portals; we shouldn’t drag them too deeply into things, but you know how it goes, a few favours between friends – anyway, maybe they can help you out somehow. Among other things, they’re into brewing weird stuff.”

Fennorian’s interest was piqued. “House Telvanni alchemists, you say?”

“All kinds of things. Seems to be more part-time alchemy hobbyists, but you know what Telvanni are like, even the hobby pursuits have some strange edge to them. Also sometimes they’re really useful.”

“Do you think they teach non-House members?”

Tedare laughed. “Slowly now. Weren’t you going to Skyrim?”

“Yes, but surely not forever. Or if so, well you mentioned portals. And I expect we’ll be living a while yet…” He turned to Nanacie. “Or what do you think?”

A smile played around her lips. “I knew it. Gladly.” She turned to me. “We will take your generous offer after all. Tomorrow?”

I grinned. “Fine. I like that.” I turned to Verandis, then Tedare. “I’d accept all of that. Tedare, will you come back, do we write, how does this go with your secrecy obligations?”

“I’ll visit once in a while, no problem, and you can… No, writing is indeed bad… I’ll visit. And you have a Daedric Prince attached? All the better. Useful. We’ll manage that.”

And so it was decided.

That night, Clavicus showed up in my room, looking worn-out like I’d never seen him.

I fussed like I’m not normally wont to, and asked for ale and a hearty dinner from the kitchen.

After we’d eaten, and with the ale diminished, too, Clavicus sighed and leaned back on the couch. Looked at me. Took my arm, turned it over, looked at the inside of my wrist.

“Joining the ranks of the vampires?” I asked.

“If that’d give me back my energy, I’d be tempted,” he said and kissed my wrist. “You could turn me. Be my responsible Prince. An elegant loop.”

I smiled. “By the way,” I said, “I’ve… done something I ought to tell you right away. I told those two people…”

“Nanacie and Fennorian, yeah yeah, you want to turn them. No problem. Good place to start your line, in my opinion. And they’ll be protected enough in Skyrim with that. None of that witch nonsense taking hold in your strand.” He grinned at me. “So you were right in trusting me. Though the assassin got there before you could find out. Still.” He patted my shoulder. “No Skyrim for you, alright? You turn them tomorrow, get them all set up, we can do some of the basic teaching, though really you should do it all, your friend’s a skittish one. But I don’t want you caught up in that.” His smile turned wry. “And Nord manners are the last thing you need to learn. Gold Coast? I can live with that. Although one of those Telvanni your assassin mentioned…” He groaned and shook his head. “Fuck it. Water under the bridge. If you can get along with those crazy wizards, go ahead. And I’ve made a deal with his friend, after all, who was even more involved in messing everything up.” He chewed his lower lip for a moment. “For the better, anyway.”

“So I take it the venture failed?”

“Spectacularly. All instances of it. And Mephala and I are currently not on speaking terms with Nocturnal.”

“Huh. Funny,” I said, “I’d have thought Mephala would be the first to backstab.”

“Right? Oh well. It’s not like I wanted us to succeed in the end. And I got another deal with the partner of the friend of the Telvanni wizard. Bit more limitations for interference with Nirn, but better terms for when I do hang around, and that involves you. And an asylum clause. Just in case. It’s endlessly long and complicated though, I’ll tell you another day. I’m tired of thinking.”

I grinned and ran my fingers through his hair. “And the friend, with the other deal? Also complicated?”

He rested his head on my shoulder. “No, much better, very simple. I did him a favour; he’ll do me a favour back someday; open kind of thing. But if you’re going to be wrapped up with that set, I’ll be generous. Well, I promised as much anyway. Somehow I was in a non-petty mood that day. Maybe we’ll need something someday, and I’ll ask. Oh yeah, he’s in with Sheogorath, and that’s also useful, and…” His voice drifted off. “Complicated after all.”

I smiled. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re back unharmed. _Are_ you unharmed?”

“For the most part.”

“How’s Barbas?”

“Sulking, but alright. He’ll be around. But later.”

I grinned. “Sounds good.”

He raised an eyebrow and grinned back at me, then he sat up in a sudden gesture, pulled himself up, and laid his arm around my shoulder. “For some reason, I find myself awake. By the way. Just before I forget. You didn’t do so badly here. Bit chaotic, but it turned out alright. I mean, given the circumstances.”

“We’re really just managing the defeat now.”

“Yeah, me, too. But you’re alive to manage the defeat. That’s what counts. Losses? Forget it. Rivenspire? Forget it. All of High Rock, too, forget it. That was always doomed unless there was a miracle to help out, and there’s no miracle here.” A glint entered his eyes. “No offence. Personal miracles aren’t the same as regional miracles. Can’t believe I’m saying stuff like that.”

I laughed and kissed him, and he pulled me close.

“Regretting this yet?” he asked.

“Never.”

He let out a pleased hum. “Personal miracle indeed.”

“Do I assume right that you’ll have more time now?”

“You do. Want me to stay? Of course you do, I already know. Well, managing someone else’s defeat may be a nice distraction. And then Gold Coast? Maybe I should make amends with that pesky Telvanni. Might even get a deal out of… Nah, that won’t happen. But anyway, you’re a few steps closer to ready to joining society. Why not via the shady kinds? Yeah, let’s do that. You know what, I’m talking too much. Know why?”

I smiled. “Cause you don’t normally have the right company to talk to?”

“That, too. Yeah. The other reason is, cause I’m thinking too much again. I wasn’t going to do that. I’m tired of thinking. Shall we put a stop to thinking for now?”

And so it was decided.


End file.
